Tempest in a Teapot
by cabinet of curiosities
Summary: Magnus and Druitt do the time warp again. Keeping the time line completely intact is a lot harder than it would seem. Then again, what would be the fun in that? Features members of The Five as well as the rest of the Sanctuary clan as the story progresses
1. Discombobulation

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 1: Discombobulation

Shadowy figures danced along the walls, fueled by the blazing fire in the stone fireplace. The heat it put off did little to warm the two shell shocked individuals lumbering in the high backed chairs facing the fire. The only sounds to be heard were the crackling of the logs, the soft ticking of an antique clock residing on the shelf of a nearby wooden bookcase, and the occasional tapping of a raindrop against the window pane. The rain outside had mostly ended, leaving in its wake a gathering fog that would soon envelope London in its cool embrace.

A chair creaked as one of the men reached over to set down his empty glass of brandy and exhaled a deep breath. His companion threw him a glance, finished the rest of his brandy and followed suit.

"This is not how I thought we'd meet again," one commented, finally turning his focus to the tall man seated to his right. He once again took in the bizarre dark clothing and unfamiliar bald head.

The face, half in shadow, had a sinister aura to it and the voice that emanated from it was cool and detached. "You expected to find me laying dead in a ditch somewhere?" There was a pause. "Or perhaps we'd run into each other down some darkened alley? Me, preoccupied with some female and you with a drawn sword?" A tiny muscle pulled at the left corner of his mouth as though he was half amused by the idea. He always did enjoy the chase, though this was not the person he preferred as the hunter.

It should be several years before Watson and Druitt were to be reunited, when the Prime Minister would call upon The Five for help with an extermination problem. Yet here they were, sitting facing a warm fire and trying to digest the fact that they should not be here together.

"Either of those scenarios would be more plausible than what actually occurred tonight," the other replied as he reached over to the glass decanter and poured himself another drink. "Tonight was like being Alice and falling through the rabbit hole." He thought for a moment and added, "I'm not sure whether I was Alice or the harried rabbit." He glared over to the other, "I do know who the Mad Hatter was and who was the Cheshire Cat."

This elicited a small chuckle from the other who finally turned to look over at his old friend. He held up his empty glass for a refill as he teased, "Perhaps you've been chasing the dragon and all of this is merely a bad reaction?"

"I haven't chased the dragon in years," Watson sniffed in a clipped tone as he filled the glass.

"Oh, that's right, you're respectable. No bad habits for you," Druitt volleyed back and took a slow, long drink from his glass. The strong scent of the liquor filled his nostrils and added to the soothing dullness that was sinking into his being. To say it had been a trying day was an understatement of epic proportions.

"I have always been respectable, unlike someone I know," James reminded him. He swirled the liquid in his glass, staring at the deep color glowing in the firelight.

John waived his hand in the air absently. "Respectability is overrated. It just means you are a bore who always follows the rules."

"Right, because injecting myself with the Source Blood is following the rules," James said, lifting his glass in a mock salute and taking a deep gulp.

That brought a soft laugh from his companion who then downed the remainder of his glass and held it up for a third refill. "We injected ourselves with the Source Blood because we were young and stupid" Druitt said, mentally adding "And in love" to himself.

Watson poured a bit more Brandy into John's glass and lightly banged the decanter down onto the small table that rested between their chairs. "Are we going to discuss what happened tonight or not?" He had absorbed the chaotic events and was now ready to analyze them.

"No, that would defeat the purpose."

"Which would be?" Watson roughly prompted.

"At this moment? To get lightly inebriated and forget this whole thing happened." John frowned. "I'd rather not recall the fact that we may have all died tonight, nor the fact that I'm stuck here in one of the worst times of my life with no way to get home." He finished his drink and placed the glass down onto the table, then clenched his fist in agitation.

"I'm not too thrilled with you being here at this time either, you know," James intoned dryly and also placed his glass down onto the table. The two glared at one another.

"I am hardly enthused about the prospect myself!" A distressed woman's voice called from behind them. "John, what in God's name are you doing _here_?"

Both men stiffed. Watson turned half way around to look towards the doorway and quickly jumped up from his seat in alarm. John remained in his seat, facing the fire.

"You're supposed to be in bed resting," John grumbled in irritation. Honestly, the woman never listened to a thing he told her. Druitt made to stand up, stopping short as James' hand shot out and clamped down onto his shoulder. He looked up in surprise and received a warning glance from James, whose hand remained on John's shoulder.

Helen ignored Druitt's rude comment and took two defiant steps into the room. "I asked you what you were doing here, John!" she commanded angrily and glanced between the two men. She found it odd that they would be sitting together here, in Watson's library, and sharing libations.

Watson clamped down harder on John's shoulder and gave him another warning look. His jaw was clenched so tightly the veins seemed to bulge at the top of his throat and his eyes were wide. In that split second, Druitt realized what was wrong and took in a sharp breath. "Oh, damn," he softly swore.

"Answer me, one of you," Helen insisted and took a few more steps towards them. "What is going on here?"

"John was just here to…" James wavered and glanced down at John before returning his gaze back to her. "To apologize for the other night" he answered, deliberately not looking down to see the frown cross Druitt's face. The other night? What happened the other night Druitt wondered?

"Why is he apologizing to you? I was the one he attacked!" she hissed and threw down her gloves in a fit of anger and placed her hands on her hips.

Attacked her? John's mind raced to recall what she was talking about and his eyes fairly bulged out of his head as he realized what that incident was. Oh crap! he thought. He again looked up to Watson and received a barely visible shake of the head telling him to keep quiet.

"Well," she demanded and moved even closer. She was now near the center of the room and within three strides of their chairs. She was regretting the fact that she was unarmed but then she hadn't expected to need a fire arm when she decided to stop by for a visit. This was the last place she would have expected to find her ex.

John gave out a harsh breath and James was in the next second pitching forward to the left into the chair Druitt had now teleported out of. Watson grabbed hold of the back of the chair to stop his fall and caught his breath. "Damn," he swore softly.

Helen rushed forward to assist. "I hate it when he does that!" she fussed and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright? Did he threaten you?" she asked worriedly.

He straightened himself up and ran his hands over his person to smooth out his clothing. "No, as I said, John came by to apologize for his ungentlemanly behavior the other night." He turned to find her face near his and brought her hand down into both of his. "Helen, what are you doing here at this hour? Is something wrong?"

"I was restless and couldn't sleep. The hour isn't too late and I knew you would be awake and in your study." Her grey-blue eyes bore into his. She had the most remarkable blue eyes that seemed to change intensity depending on what she was wearing. It was her eyes that he was often drawn back to when he thought about her. Right now he preferred to avoid her sharp gaze and looked away.

"It's a bit of a nasty night to go visiting, darling," he stated and moved away to pour more Brandy into his abandoned glass. "Would you like a drink?" he inquired and moved to pour her one before she could answer.

"James, what's going on? What exactly did John say to you? Did he admit to the latest killings?" she asked in quick succession and sat down in the chair Druitt had abandoned. "I want to know everything he said to you," she chided as she pulled back the hood of her silver-blue cloak.

Handing her the glass, Watson took in her porcelain complexion, flushed cheeks and golden locks arranged ever so carefully around her face. Her angelic beauty struck him hard and caused him to sigh deeply. Oh, Helen, what have you done to yourself, he morosely wondered, thinking of dark haired, wounded angel recuperating upstairs in his guest bedroom.


	2. Confronting a Madman

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 2: Confronting a Madman

She ducked as a shot struck the wall just above her head, causing fragments of brick and mortar to explode around her, and involuntarily yelped loudly as some of the flying pieces struck her head and back. Her lungs were burning as she struggled to catch her breath and continued to run, skidding around a dark corner and taking refuge behind some large crates littering the alleyways. They had to be close to the shipping yards.

She had fallen hard on her knees and was grateful for the cushioning of the layers of undergarments that at any other time she would have complained about having to wear. Gasping for breath, she tried to gather her thoughts as she strained to listen for his approaching footsteps. The loud pounding of her heart was making this more difficult than normal. The left side of her head stung and she could feel warm trickles of blood slowly sliding down her face. The thick leather overcoat had protected her upper torso, for which she was very grateful. Good quality leather was always a girl's best friend she wryly thought. Pity she didn't have on a hood.

Well, this was turning out to be a fine evening, she thought sarcastically as she shifted position and peeked through a gap in the crates. So much for an easy kill. Not that Adam Worth was going to be an easy kill by any stretch of the imagination. His brilliance, combined with his insanity, made for him being one of the most deadly adversaries she'd ever run across. She had always felt there was something off about him back in their Oxford days but had dismissed the signs, too intoxicated with The Five's quest for synthesizing The Source Blood into a viable serum in their quest to push the boundaries of science.

And of course there was her preoccupation with Druitt. Oh, God. John. She pushed away any thoughts about her former lover as she picked up the clipping of quick footsteps heading her way. She steadied her hand and poised her firearm in preparation to shoot.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Worth sang out as he came closer and panned the alleys for her. A shiver run up her spine at the almost cheerful way he said the words. She had started out as the hunter but instead wound up being the hunted. She should have shot the child in the room while she had the chance. Imogene proved to be a sweet and likable girl and she had lost any nerve she had to go through with eliminating her. Helen had earlier confessed to James that she wasn't even sure she could kill the girl and standing in that room, talking briefly to the soft spoken girl, Helen knew she could never do the child harm.

And even if she were determined to kill her, finding Imogene again would be a challenge. The maze of endless cobblestone streets intersecting here and there and the darkness that now fell over the city caused a disorientation that was hard to overcome. Worth's new hiding place couldn't be more than a few blocks away yet she wasn't sure that she could find her way back easily. The litter of bricks from their weapon exchanges would be of some help, almost like a trail of breadcrumbs.

"I know you're here, Helen. I can feel your fear," Adam cooed and slowed his steps. He came to stop near two opposing alley ways and mentally weighed his options. As if anticipating her move, he pitched to the side as she got a quick shot at him and then returned fire. "Bloody hell," she muttered as wood splintered around her and fired back repeatedly as she retreated further into the alley. Turning, she ran until she came to a dead end. Panicking, she looked around as more shots came close by. She began pulling on doors leading from the alley, finally finding one that she was able to jar open after pulling hard on the handle.

Throwing herself through the doorway, Helen cried out as sharp pain ripped through her left shoulder and slammed the door shut, pushing the lock back into place. Gritting her teeth against the pain she forced herself forward into the dark space seeing faint light in the distance. Behind her she could hear Adam yanking hard on the door and, with a roar of frustration, firing at the wooden surface.

Helen came out into a large open space and did a 360 spin trying to orient herself to the new location. She was in an old building that appeared to have been some sort of factory at one point. The dilapidated structure was obviously abandoned and looking up she could see a mezzanine level that ran the perimeter. Dusty, broken windows lined the upper walls of the mezzanine and there were sections of the roof missing. Light pooled in from these gaps allowing the terrified woman to accustom her eyes better to her setting.

She managed to duck behind a pillar just as Worth burst into the room and fired another shot at her. Disposing of her modern weaponry was a poor lack of judgment on her part Helen thought as she fired back at Adam with her ancient gun. She was at a serious disadvantage against his Praxian weapon.

"You really shouldn't have shamed me in front of me daughter," Worth angrily barked. "Now I'm really going to have to hurt you!" He volleyed another round of shots in her direction as Helen raced for the cover between the beams that lined each side of the building.

"Stop this madness, Adam," she pleaded. "You're messing with things that should not be changed. The repercussions of your actions could affect hundreds, even thousands of lives in the future." She doubted that she would be able to talk the madman down but right now she need some sort of distraction as she searched for an escape route and talking was her only other weapon.

Worth laughed aloud. "I've already killed thousands," referring to the destruction of Praxis. "Do try to keep up, woman." Knowing she was almost out of ammunition, he slowed his pace and kept his weapon facing her direction. "I should have been a part of The Five. I belonged alongside Watson and Tesla. The rest of you lot were no match for us," he continued, shaking his head in disgust. He knew she was the reason he had been kept from the inner circle. "You especially. A spoiled, stubborn, egotistical woman with no common sense to know her true place in society," he spat venomously, adding "You know the only reason they took you in was that they wanted to bed you!"

Okay, that pissed her off. Not only was she as intelligent as the other members of The Five but she was also the one who had acquired the vial of Source Blood and figured out a way to derive a serum from it. The Five would never have lived up to their full potential had they not taken that serum.

"Now really Adam, is that any way to talk to a lady," a familiar voice called out from the darkness. Both Adam and Helen shifted their focus to a nearby corner to see a man step out partially into the dim light.


	3. Clash of the Titans

Author's note: I had a bit of a time writing this chapter. This is my first fanfic and it appears that writing fight scenes are not my forte. Hopefully the next chapter will flow better.

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 3: Clash of the Titans

James Watson, gun raised in Worth's direction, stared calculatingly at his former classmate. "I can assure you that Miss Magnus was more than well matched with the rest of The Five. You, on the other hand, never seemed to quite fit in with any group at Oxford." Watson took another step forward, hoping that distraction would give Helen an opportunity to move further from Worth's vicinity. Tilting his head ever so slightly, he calmly said, "Ever ask yourself why that was? Why, in a large university filled with brilliant minds you were always the one on the outside looking in?"

Worth grinned and replied, "T'was because you lot were afraid of me and my genius. Everyone at Oxford knew I was the cleverest of students," he answered as he kept his gun pointed in Helen's direction. There was a moment's pause as the three kept their guns pointed at one another, sizing up the other. "She is going to die and you cannot save her," Worth softly sang out before diving at Helen while blasting away at Watson.

Helen aimed a good shot at Adam, causing him to hit the ground where his rough landing caused a cloud of dirt to sweep upwards. Watson had fired at Worth as well but missed and the ensuing dust littering the air caused him to choke and loose vision for a few moments. Blinking, he waved the gun before him in an attempt to clear the air and moved towards the sounds of their coughs.

Helen fled to a nearby grouping of castoff boxes and scattered trash as Adam quickly regained his footing and fired another shot which whizzed by her ear, sending more debris flying. She threw her arms before her face to protect herself. She was also becoming painfully aware that her body was fatiguing from the prolonged chase and tried to fend off the exhaustion that threatened to overcome her. How James had managed to locate her she didn't know but she prayed that he would succeed where she had failed with Adam.

James, meanwhile, had zeroed in Worth's location and launched himself at the madman. He managed to knock the weapon from his hand as the two struggled with one another. Watson was no slouch in the boxing ring and got in a few good blows before received a strong hit to the lower left side. Adam's method of fighting was wild and unfamiliar to him, making it difficult to anticipate Worth's moves.

Helen, unconsciously holding her breath, kept her weapon aimed on the pair yet held off from firing. If she aimed wrong James would be hurt and she wouldn't risk that. With a loud grunt, James was suddenly thrown backwards and a horrified Helen heard the sickening snap of his body making contact with the wooden beam. His body slid down as she screamed out his name and fired repeated at Adam again. The barrel released one bullet, nicking Adam's left hand and then the hollow clicking alerted all that she was out of bullets.

The next seconds were a blur. An enraged Worth grabbed at her as Helen struck at him hard with her gun. He roared in pain as she landed the blow against his left shoulder and then he was able to wrestle the gun free, causing it to fly into the nearby darkness. Helen stumbled as her footing got caught in her skirt and cried out in pain as Adam struck her hard across the head.

More debris flew around as Helen was knocked to the ground, crying out as crippling pain resounded around her head. Before she could get her bearings, Helen felt herself being yanked up by the neck in a crushing hold.

"I'm going to enjoy snapping your worthless neck," Adam hissed, "Pun intended." Helen gasped for air and jerked about in an attempt to strike any part of her attacker to force him to release his vise-like grip. His other hand clamped down on her wrists to keep her from striking further. She heard him give out a harsh laugh as the lack of oxygen began to affect her.

"Adam," a loud voice rang out, seeming to echo from the darkness above. Worth didn't release his hold on his prey as he tilted his head upwards to find a tall figure standing above on the mezzanine level across from them. How in the world had Watson got up there he wondered.

"I'd stop hurting her if I were you," the man commanded as he moved forward to bring his face into a ray of light streaming from a hole above him in the roof. The pale face, twisted in a snarl, appeared to float bodiless in the night. The bald head reflecting light off its smooth surface.

Worth's grip slipped slightly at the unexpected sight, allowing Helen to inhale a few brief gasps of air before he caught himself. Getting over his momentary shock, Worth snickered "Well, well, couldn't stay away, could you, old boy?" He grinned and felt Helen's head tip upwards to see Druitt staring down at them like some evil, dark raven waiting to pick over remains lying below. "Come to be her knight in shining armor, have you?" His grin widened. "Watson's already tried his hand at the savior bit and lost."

Helen's body jerked as Worth tightened his grip and pulled up. Blackness was starting to encroach on her consciousness and she could feel herself starting to slip away. "The only thing you are in time for mate is to see your precious Helen take her last few breaths!" he shouted up and laughed maniacally.

"One madman to another. Harm what is mine and I will return in kind," Druitt threatened and followed with, "Release her now, Adam!"

Adam bellowed a laugh, amused at Druitt's audacity. Even now he could feel her starting to slack in his hold. It wouldn't be too much longer. "It's too late!" he boasted.

"Well, in that case… an eye for an eye it is!" Druitt bellowed back and moved fully into the light. His right arm yanked forward, pulling another, smaller figure before him and pinning it between his body and the metal railing that ran the length of the mezzanine.

Worth's eyes fairly bulged as he took in the sight of Druitt's captive and he let out a cry of "No!" Helen's brain registered the form of Imogene in John's arms before everything went black and she knew no more.


	4. Fate Steps In

Author's note: Brushed up on a little Holmesian lore and discovered that one of his weapons of choice was a riding crop. A useful weapon for sure, though I rather liked the policeman's club that Helen used in Tempest.

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 4: Fate Steps In

He struggled to upright himself as quietly as possible, very aware of the sharp object sticking him uncomfortably in the back. Slipping a hand behind the right side of his back, he pulled loose the now broken object. He didn't need to look down to know his trusty riding crop had been snapped almost in two. Better the crop than his spine, Watson mused absently as he watched the chaos unfolding several feet away.

He was not use to losing in hand to hand battle. In fact, he couldn't recall that ever happening since he'd honed his boxing and baritsu, a form of martial art, skills. Worth's wild and furious blows could have been overcome had Helen's peculiar behavior not briefly distracted Watson's attention. He had registered how pale she had looked, with cheeks flushed cherry red, but it was the fact that she had swayed a bit while aiming a gun in their direction that had bothered him. Helen was not one to swoon.

Adam's dirty blow caught the worried man unawares. Watson was unexpectedly thrown several feet away into a wooden beam. He landed with a loud "oomph! " that was simultaneously accompanied by a sickening snapping sound. The impact of landing against the beam had knocked the breath out of him and left him momentarily disoriented.

Worth had turned his attentions to Helen and seemed to feel that Watson was no longer a threat. John's arrival with the child halted Adam's throttling of Helen and she lay forgotten on the ground as the terrified father rushed forward to confront the madman holding his only child.

"I let her go now you let my daughter go!" Worth yelled, eyes glued to the pair standing above him on the landing. Imogene's eyes were huge and reflected terror. "Father! Help me!" she cried and cringed as John pressed against her further. His arms were steeled around her, sealing off any room to slip past his hold.

"Let her go!" Adam again demanded and looked around for a way to get up onto the upper level.

"Why should I?" Druitt drawled, "You've killed her. Why should I not kill yours?" he taunted. He stilled for a second as the child began to shake in his hold.

"She isn't dead," Adam swore. Seeing Imogene's shock, he tried to give her a reassuring look as he lied, "I would never kill her. She would not stay out of my business and forced me to retaliate to stop her endless hounding of me and me daughter." He nodded as if to emphasize his pronouncement. "I am just protecting my family."

"As am I," Druitt returned. He saw that Watson had stealthily moved over to Helen, had lifted her head and was checking for a pulse. He looked up quickly at John and nodded an affirmative, then returned his attention to his friend.

"Druitt!" Adam bellowed again. For the first time in a very long while Worth was actually afraid. He knew what John was capable of and this time the psychopath had not a nameless whore but Adam's beloved child. "Imogene, everything is going to be okay, darlin'. It will be okay ," he repeated.

During the exchange, James had carried Helen to corner to distance them from the mess he suspected would soon descend on them all. John was unpredictable, unstable and above all else violent. Druitt might have acted violent towards his ex-fiancée but the sleuth knew that the madman would take extreme exception to _anyone else_ behaving that way towards her.

Watson was also very worried about the child's safety but right now his main concern was Helen. He would try to talk John into releasing the girl as soon as Helen was alert and able to care for herself. Whispering her name, James shook her lightly in an attempt to get her to regain consciousness. A harsh gasp of breath escaped her lips and her eyes flew open to find herself nose to nose with a disheveled looking James.

Helen took another harsh breath and gasp, "James!" as she struggled to sit upright. Watson noted that one of his hands had touched something sticky on her shoulder and quickly deduced she'd been shot. He examined the spot and was relieved that the blood was not extensive. The leather overdress had probably protected her from more serious harm.

Having noted Helen's movement, Druitt sighed loudly and gave Worth a bored look. "Fine. Come and get her. She isn't my type anyway. A bit too slight and rather squirmy." He picked up a strand of her hair and nonchalantly commented, "Though she does have nice, soft hair."

That spurred Worth to locate the nearby, rickety staircase and race up it, praying that he could get to his child in time before the lunatic took off with her. He should have killed John first he fumed. It was only because the two shared the position of outcast among The Five and were regarded as insane that Adam had put off trying to kill him until they arrived in Hallow Earth. He still wasn't sure how Druitt escaped his deadly minions.

Adam reached the top of the stairs, standing within 10 feet of the duo and tried to catch his breath. The floor seemed fragile underneath and he paused to get his bearings. He was also afraid to spook Druitt into teleporting away with Imogene. "Let her go," he angrily demanded and took a tentative step towards them.

"Why don't you come and get her?" Druitt baited and tilted his head as he lightly smirked. His expression fell as he heard the child plead, "Please, sir, let me go." He held up his palm to halt Worth, then slowly let his arms fall to his side.

As soon as she realized he had released her, Imogene raced toward her father, throwing herself into his arms as she sobbed. The whole landing shook and Worth grasped the railing with one hand while keeping the other arm around his terrified daughter. "It's alright, darlin'. You're safe," he cooed as he tightly held her to him.

Below, James had helped Helen to her feet and was further alarmed by the fact that she did not seem able to stand on her own. His arms went around her as she swayed and she began coughing. "We need to get out of here," he whispered to her, "_Now_!

"Yes," she agreed and tried to walk, then felt herself sway again. Her throat was burning and her feet unsteady. "Something's wrong," she said in bewilderment before launching into another coughing fit.

Above, John also grasped the railing with one hand to steady himself and watched the father-daughter reunion with deep interest. His mind flew back to Ashley turning from her mother's arms to thank him for rescuing her. The relief and genuine affection he felt for the child he barely knew had filled his being in a way that he had not felt in a long time. It was only a short time after that that he had lost her forever, thanks to the machinations of The Cabal. Intense anger flashed across his face at the sense of deep loss.

Adam looked up from his daughter to see Druitt looking at them with an expression of murderous rage. He reached into his coat for the second, smaller weapon he was carrying. Druitt noticed the movement and teleported away just as Adam fired. The shot struck the railing, causing it to blow apart and fall inwards onto the landing.

Imogene screamed as the landing gave way, plunging them both downward. Adam yelled his daughter's name as they crashed below.

At the sound of the shot, James had turned Helen against the wall, using his body as a shield. "What the hell?" she cried out, and then they were both thrown against the wall as the upper level came crashing to the ground. The explosion shook them and almost knocked them to the ground, had Druitt not teleported next to them and grab hold of them both.

Coughing ensued as the air became dusty and filled with debris. James was the first to clear his vision. He had let go of Helen and turned to look upon the rubble. He sucked in a deep breath then coughed as an anguished cry filled the air. Helen, now being held up Druitt's arms, looked up to see the disaster before them.

"NOoooooo," Worth was wailing over and over, cradling the upper part of his limp daughter's body, the rest of which lie buried beneath wood and bricks from the upper landing. His grief hit the other three like a tidal wave.

"Oh, God," Watson said sadly. Beside him he heard a sob issue from Helen as tears filled her eyes. She had known that the child was fated to die, and though she had not done the deed herself, she still felt upset and guilty that it occurred. Another sob came and she felt John pull her closer to him. He was standing slightly before her so that she was mostly hidden behind him with her head visible over his shoulder. John's turned head was next to hers as they looked stunned upon the awful sight.

Crazed with anguish, Adam looked up to see the three watching him mourn his child's death. He had moved time literally only to be denied what his heart craved the most. "You!" he spat and laid down Imogene's lifeless body. He stood up and yelled again. "You, this is entirely all your fault!" he leveled at Watson and Magnus. He then ran towards them screaming in anger.

Unblinking, Watson raised Adam's first discarded weapon, which he had found as he had made his way to Helen earlier, and fired. He, John and Helen all flinched as a high pitched sound rang out and bright blue light flashed as Adam's body disintegrated.

"Bloody hell," James muttered and looked down at his lowered weapon. He had never seen anything of it's like. Its light weight and sleek design fascinated him.

After all the commotion, the silence that filled the space was a bit unnerving. The remaining three stood rooted to their position, as if afraid the ordeal was not yet over.

Helen sniffled and looked up at the man holding her against him. "John?" she questioned, confused by his presence.

Druitt saw her confusion and answered, "It's all right. It's done now."

She opened her mouth to ask him "how" when she was overtaken by another, more violent fit of coughing. Her hands flew up to her mouth and her eyes widened in alarm. Druitt, now carefully gripping her shoulders, softly spoke her name at the same time Watson did.

She pulled her hands away from her mouth and looked down to see her palms covered with her blood. More dribbled down the corners of her mouth as her mind raced to understand what was going on.

"Oh no, oh no, no, no, no" John muttered and turned to the other man standing by them.

James managed to get out, "What's wrong…" before he felt himself being pulled into a dizzying, blinding whirlwind.


	5. Race for the Cure

Author's note: One big thing that was ignored in Tempest was why Helen did not get sick as she did following Breach, so I tried to come up with a solution to that in this story.

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 5: Race for the Cure

They rematerialized in Watson's library. James wobbled slightly and grimaced as light nausea tickled at his stomach. "You could warn a person before doing that!" he exclaimed and placed his hand on the arm of one of his wing chairs facing the dark fireplace. Druitt ignored him, his focus solely on the other member of their party.

Helen had become accustomed to traveling with John and gave little thought to their molecules being pulled apart and reconnected as they went from point a to point b. She was far more concerned with her blood loss and lack of strength.

Sensing her waning strength, John lifted her up into his arms and heading towards the door. "Where are you going with her," James huffed and followed in their wake.

"She needs to rest," John answered as he headed to the wooden staircase. It had been a long time since he had been upstairs in Watson's home and he didn't want to risk the error of teleporting to the wrong location.

Helen began coughing again and put her hand to her mouth. Normally she would be furious with him carrying her around like this but she certainly didn't feel normal. In fact, she felt very _off_. They reached the landing and John hesitated, unsure which door to go through.

"Take the last one on the left," James instructed and halted as he heard footsteps at the bottom of the staircase. "Sir?" a voice called up from below. His manservant had not heard his employer re-enter the building and so was a little confused how he was suddenly upstairs. Leaning over the dark, wooden railing, James called down, "Have Ms. Havers make up a large pot of tea and leave it on the chest in the hallway. And bring a pitcher of water and some towels as well. I have guests visiting and I do not wish for them to be disturbed."

"Sir?" Langley questions, not sure he heard right. A pitcher of water and towels? He got no response as James went to join his friends. Langley shook his head and set off for the kitchen. He had been in Dr. Watson's employment for several years now, and should be used to his employer's odd habits. Having an unannounced guest as after night had fallen who had headed straight upstairs was very odd indeed. He mused on whether the guests were male or female as he made his way.

James walked in just as John had asked her "how bad is it?" and quickly pulled the heavy wooden door closed. She was sitting upright on the bed, hands and lower face blotted with splotches of blood. Her face was even paler, if that was possible, and she looked feverish. John was seated on the bed next to her and leaning in close to speak with her.

"Bad," she answered softly. Neither seemed to register Watson's presence. "In my single mindedness to stop Adam it has completely slipped my mind about the side effects that can occur with time manipulation." She stared down at her hands trying to measure how far along she was in her deterioration. There were no advanced scanners here to get a more detailed examination of her body.

Coming to stand on the other side of the bed, James looked down at the pair. "What is going on? The wound to the shoulder does not seem to be life threatening."

John's head turned to James then back to Helen in surprise. "Did Adam hit you with his weapon?" His eyes scanned her shoulders, noted the dried, dark substance on one and gingerly he reached out to touch the wound.

"Adam just nicked me," she assured and added, "This is something else." She closed her eyes as a felt a wave dizziness overtake her. Her hands went up to her temple and pressed down in attempt to squelch the unpleasant feeling.

James' hawkish eyes took it all in. Their close vicinity threw him, as did John's appearance. His dark leather clothing was similar to what Helen had been wearing when James had bailed her out of jail and the bald head was certainly new. The scar Helen had given Druitt ten years earlier was still visible on his pale, broad face. He deduced that the Druitt that sat across from him was from the same time as the dark haired Helen that rested upon the bed.

"Helen, what is happening?" he inquired again. His eyes rested on Druitt's face and saw his own deep concern reflected back at him.

"It's the radiation poisoning, isn't it?" John asked, also in a soft tone. For some reason both men felt the need to speak softly and calmly, as if it would help improve the situation somehow. Helen nodded, eyes closed, and pursed her lips tightly as if in pain. She coughed again and reached up to release a few of the top buttons on the restrictive outer dress to better breath, ignoring the nagging internal Victorian voice that chastised her for undressing in a room with men who were not her husband. Well, one of them almost was she wryly thought.

James didn't understand what they were talking about but it was obviously dire.

"Why aren't I feeling any side effects?" John queried her. He hadn't felt weakened or ill so far. Course, he had been mostly running off of adrenaline before and now he was just trying to get his pounding heart under control. It had scared him the first time she suffered from the side effects. This time he was beyond scared as he took in her rapidly failing health. He reached out to touch her hand.

She opened her eyes at the feel of his touch to stare up at him and responded, "Perhaps it has not caught up with you yet. Everyone's physiologies are different."

John shook his head to clear his thoughts and put to her, "What about the pills you took last time? Will those work now?"

Mirroring him, Helen shook her head in return. "They haven't been invented yet." John frowned at her reply. She took a deep breath and turned her gaze onto James, who looked completely unsure of what to do. "I'm dying, James. The radiation poisoning is causing my organs to shut down," she said simply. "It's happening faster this time because I do not have the pills I had before to help stave off the effects until a cure was found."

"Was there a cure?" James sharply asked them both.

Helen nodded. "Yes, but I have no way of accessing it at this time," she told them both with a sad smile. She gently shrugged her shoulders in defeat.

This time it was James's turn to frown. The very idea of Helen dying appalled him. It was being implied that time travel could kill the traveler. "What about Adam?" Watson threw out as he sat down on the bed. "He did not seem the least bit ill or weakened back at the warehouse." The bruising to his lower side attested to Worth's strength. "Was it possible that he had the cure?"

"He most definitely had the cure," Helen assured. Worth had been planning this for a very long time. No way would he have not considered needing a treatment for the radiation poisoning.

John perked up at that. "Worth's plan was always to save Imogene. I doubt that he would have planned to have them both stay here in this time period. It would have been too restrictive for his twisted little mind." He moved to stand up.

Helen grabbed his hand to stop him. "What are you thinking?" she demanded.

"I'm thinking that Worth probably has a spare cure or two lying around for his and the child's return trip back to our time line," John ventured and placed his hand on top of Helen's. "Describe what form the cure resides in and how it works. Is it an injection? A pill?" After listening intently to her description of it, he pulled his hand free from her, stood and, in a blinding flash of red, teleported away.


	6. The Doctor is In

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 6: The Doctor Is In

"How does he even know where to look?" an irritated James asked her, to which she volleyed back, "How did he find us in that warehouse?" She gave him an intent look. "Come to think of it. How did you know where to me find in the first place? I told you I was going hunting but I never said where."

A knock on the door interrupted before he could answer. Helen rested further back on the pillow and sighed as James went to the door. How she would love to take off this bloody confining dress and all of its undergarments. Breathing would be so much easier without all these unnecessary layers. The resting was helping her feel a little better though.

He returned soon enough, carrying a tea tray which he placed on the table by her bedside. His jacket was gone, presumably given to his manservant. James disappeared out the door a second time and returned with a small pitcher of water which he walked over to the pour into the porcelain wash basin sitting on the dresser. He dipped a clean hand towel into the water, wrung it out and returned to his guest.

Helen smiled and opened her eyes as she felt the cool, damp cloth gently stroke her face. She looked up to find James intensely staring at her face. There were numerous cuts on the left hand side of her face. They weren't deep enough to require stitches, thank goodness. He worked on wiping away any blood with one hand while the other began to explore her head for bumps or other wounds.

"You don't look a day older than are you now, in this time," he murmured in amazement. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she gave him a sweet smile. "Are you injured anywhere else… externally, that is?" he asked as he continued his inspections. The internal organ damage he had little ability to treat.

"Just the shoulder," she answered and moved her hand up to cover his as he wiped the last of the blood away from the corner of her mouth. "James, thank you… for everything," she earnestly said. "You were here when I needed you and I wish to thank you most profusely."

His eyes softened as he playfully dabbed her nose with the cloth. "Where else would I be?" he teased and smiled back at her. His eyes appreciatively took in her appearance yet again. Lovely, beautiful Helen. So much like the one he knew in this time yet so different at the same time.

His hand touched a strand of her dark hair and he lifted it up for a closer inspection. She noticed his frown and laughed softly. No doubt her appearance confused him. He only knew her as his sweet, dignified and well mannered blonder version. His dark whiskers would have positively grayed if he only knew of a fraction of the things she had done in their lifetime. And at this point they had only known each other for around two decades. There were well over 120 more years James had yet to experience with her.

He took a deep breath and stood up. "You will need to take off your dress. I want to have a look at the wound," he said and went over to the wash basin to rinse out the towel.

She sighed. "Oh James, it doesn't matter. The wound has stopped bleeding and it is the least of my worries."

He heard the resignation in her voice. She really did believe that she was going to die and within a short time. "Still, I would like to take a look at it in any case. I will leave you to undress as I fetch my medical bag," he said quickly and left the room before she could protest.

Stubborn old dog she fondly thought as she got up to undress. Pain stung her as she slid her hurt shoulder loose from dress. By the time she had gotten it completely off and had slipped back into bed she started feeling dizzy again. She swallowed a few times and put a hand to her forehead.

There was a knock on the door and she called, "Come" as she pulled the covers up tight over her chest. She still had on her undergarments but this was the Victorian age and one had to be as modest as possible. If this had been the future she would be wearing more layers than most everyday people did going about on the street. But alas, she stuck in the dark ages she darkly mused.

James entered, closed the door and, in a few long strides, was back sitting before her on the bed in no time. Zeroing in on the wound, he solemnly declared that she was going to need a few stitches. The wound wasn't caused by a bullet and instead her skin appeared to have been slightly burned and split. He recalled how Adam had disintegrated before their eyes and mentally shivered.

She groaned loudly and said, "It doesn't matter anymore, James. Leave it be."

He got up and headed back to retrieve the damp towel. "It does matter. I'll not have you going off into the hereafter with open wounds and covered in blood," he joked in an attempt to alleviate the severity of the situation.

She laughed. "Fine. At least allow me a cup of tea before you start poking and stabbing me."

He smiled back at her and, placing down the towel, reached for the teapot to pour her a cup of hot refreshment and poured another for himself. She saw there was also a plate of biscuits on the tray. "Um, biscuits," she purred and acknowledged for the first time that she was hungry. It had been a long while since her last meal.

James chuckled, handed her a cup and saucer and then placed the plate of biscuits onto the bed covers by her hand. She took a deep sip of the hot liquid, squeezed her eyes shut as she enjoyed the warmness it brought to her scratchy throat, then grabbed a biscuit. "Um," she repeated and made a happy noise. Despite living in America for decades she still insisted upon calling them biscuits rather than cookies.

He smiled in amusement at her antics as he wiped clean the wound on her shoulder. "You always did love your biscuits," he teased. "What true blooded Brit doesn't," she teased back and grabbed another one. She really was hungry. And if this was going to be her last meal so be it. She was going to savor every last bite.

He dug around in the medical bag and pulled out the supplies he needed. The next few minutes were a bit unpleasant as James worked on patching up the wound. Helen made several grimaced faces and tried to focus on the tasty biscuits to distract herself as she endured the pain. By the time he was through she had eaten all but one.

"I might have wanted one of those," he lightly reprimanded and was treated to a somewhat remorseful smile from his patient. "Oops," she gracefully shrugged, then grimaced as pain poked at her shoulder. She looked down at the last biscuit in her hand, bit her bottom lip as she looked back up at James and considered giving him the biscuit. After all, it would be very unlady-like to devour a plate full of biscuits and not allow the other person his share.

Shaking his head, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, James gave her an affectionate look. It was one that he rarely shared with others. Helen was mainly the one who saw this side of him. Nigel, the youngest member of The Five, was the other. His eyes followed the biscuit as she raised it up and slowly moved it towards his lips. His grin widened. He knew exactly what she was going to do.

"We can share it." She touched the lone biscuit to his lips and her cheek dimpled as he took a gentle bite. An unspoken look passed between the two as they stared at one another. James felt himself flush a little. This felt a little more than just playful. The remainder of the biscuit she then placed in her mouth and murmured "Um" once more. They both laughed at their silliness, so out of place right now. A little humor was needed to lighten up the atmosphere.

"Am I interrupting?" a frigid, annoyed voice broke in, startling them out of their private little world.


	7. Saving Helen

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 7: Saving Helen

"Perhaps you would prefer I come back at a later time?" Druitt sarcastically said he crossed his arms and aimed a very frosty look at the pair. When he left she was fully clothed, feverish looking and acting like she was on her death bed. He returned to find her half undressed in bed, still looking feverish, and flirting with his former best friend. The woman really did do her best to piss him off he thought and frowned further.

"You're back," she stated the obvious and leaned back against the pillows. She gave John a small smile, which only annoyed Druitt even more. Helen mentally grinned at herself. Sometimes she really did enjoy pissing John off. And if she was going to die she better take the opportunity while she could.

James, concerned that Druitt would lose his temper, finished putting the last of his supplies into his medical bag. He left his hand in the bag, feeling the scalpel beneath his fingertips, as he gave his full attention to John. Should he become violent, James would have to defend himself and Helen. "Did you find anything," he asked as he pointedly ignored John's displeasure.

Druitt snorted as he observed Watson. He knew exactly why James was keeping his hand inside the bag. As if Watson could stop him should he choose to attack. Nikola might be the most dangerous of The Five due to his egomaniacal, calculating genius but John was dangerous in a whole other way. He couldn't be caught thanks to his gift and it was not a wise move to piss him off royally. "Oh, are you still interested in a cure? Perhaps Helen would prefer to swoon in bed and die in your arms like some helpless Victorian heroine. Shall I fetch your violin? You can play her a lovely, mournful tune to set the mood," he sniped.

Helen frowned at him and rolled her eyes. John did not wear jealously well. Never had. "Oh, for heaven's sake. Be nice, John. I'm dying," she chastised as she crossed her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes at him. "You can grouse all you want after I'm gone."

"I would prefer to grouse now, thank you very much," he replied and narrowed his eyes back at her. "And we're immortal. We do not die… at least not for very long."

"Tell that to my organs," she complained. His bad mood was beginning to infect her. Helen opened her mouth to say something snarky to him when another coughing fit caught her unexpectedly. The motion of the coughing jarred her shoulder and she gave out a small cry of pain.

Forgetting his anger, John hurried over to the bed as James leaned forward and place his hand on her reddened cheek. "You're hot. It's getting worse, isn't it?" he asked worriedly. He had never witnessed her this ill before in all the time he had known her.

She nodded slowly as she exhaled and lowered her hands, palms up, onto the bed cover. Her strength was waning again and she suddenly wanted to close her eyes and just sleep. In the four days she had been here, calm, undisturbed sleep had eluded her grasp. Nightmares and a nagging concern that she was in deep trouble riddled what little sleep she managed to catch.

"This will help," Druitt insisted as he pulled a metallic item from his coat pocket. He felt guilty for arguing with her while she lay there dying and his anger dissipated as quickly as it had come. John lifted the small item up and moved towards her neck with it.

James cried out in alarm and grabbed at John's raised hand. "What the hell are you doing?"

Snarling at him, John tried to shake loose of his hold. "Let go you old fool. I have to give her the injection!"

"Oh for God's sake!" she exclaimed and grabbed the item from Druitt's hold. "If anyone is going to be injecting me it's _ME_! I am the only medical doctor in the room after all." Placing one end on her neck she pushed at the other end and grimaced as she felt the brief sting of the needle. She gave out a loud sigh as she closed her eyes and flopped back onto the pillows. The hand holding the cure dropped limply onto the bed cover. Men really could be such big babies she thought unkindly. How did she ever survive Oxford without throttling these two? Make that three. She forgot about Nikola.

John and James quietly eyed her, waiting on baited breath for the cure to take hold. Their eyes came to rest on the strong rise and fall of her chest.

Sensing that she was the center of their undivided attention, she muttered "Will you two stop staring at me. I'm not dead yet!" Peeking one eye open, she realized exactly what part of her anatomy they were staring at and pulled the covers up to her neck. She glared at them in reproach.

"We just want to make sure you are getting well, my dear," John told her. "No need to get all snippy. Dying really does not become you," he needled her as he shook his head in a solemn manner, "you go from being all sweet and fragile in bed to being all hot tempered and bossy."

"Death might become you if you keep antagonizing me," she threw back, her eyes flashing angrily and her lips pursed together.

John merely smirked back at her. This was his Helen. She didn't take crap from anyone and when one expected her to just roll over and play dead she would instead sit upright and sock you with all her might. She was a by instinct a fighter and that would serve her well now.

James rolled his eyes at his companions. More than century later and they were still royal pains in his arse. "If anyone gets to kill him," he motioned to John with his head, "it is me." He turned to face Druitt. "You show up, out of the black unexpectedly, only to give me a near heart attack in an abandoned warehouse by holding Worth's daughter hostage. How in the world did you manage to find her? Or us?" He narrowed his eyes at Druitt. "How long have you been stalking us?"

Druitt drew himself up to his full height so he could peer down his nose at Watson. "I wasn't stalk _you_," he exclaimed, "I was following her. I was worried Worth would try to harm her. He seems rather found of that. And I only took the child as a bargaining chip."

He looked back at Helen to see if she believed him. He never wanted to harm the girl. He just needed something to offer Worth in exchange for Helen should the need arise. And it did. Adam was a very dangerous, very clever opponent. Alone, Druitt could have killed Adam in hand to hand combat. However, he wasn't willing to risk that when Helen and James were within Adam's perimeter or his firing range.

Helen gave him a tired but genuine smile. "Thank you for coming to my rescue." She looked over and smiled at James as well. "Both of you." Her face grew serious as she contemplated her next thoughts. "I couldn't bring myself to harm Imogene in that flat. She would still be alive now if Adam had not fired upon John. Worth killed his own daughter," she recapped sadly.

"The child was always fated to die," John intoned sagely. The other two looked at him wearily. Unlike John, neither was really sure that was true. They got involved by their own choice, not by some mystical, indefinable thing called fate. John nodded his head at them. "She was always going to die because Adam's anger always got the better of him. He felt the need to inflect revenge on you both. He paid little heed to the possibility of a price for that revenge."

The three reflected on that proclamation silently. Finally, Helen began yawning and her eyes grew even heavier. "Gentleman, if you do not mind, I rather think I would like to go to sleep right now. I find myself quite drowsy."

"I wonder why," Watson dryly quipped, earning him a small but brief smile from her. She was quite obviously exhausted and would soon lose her battle to stay awake. "You haven't slept in days, have you?" he surmised. He clucked softly at her like a mother hen.

She smiled again as her lids drooped close. "Goodnight, gentleman. Please close the door on your way out." The hands holding the bed covers tight to her chest soon slackened and her breathing became slow and steady. Morpheus finally came for his visit and carried her away into peaceful slumber.

The two men waited until they were sure she was deep asleep. James quietly took her pulse to make sure she was okay, and then took a sideways glance at John's appearance. Druitt also had dark circles underneath his eyes and probably hadn't slept much since arriving. Stopping Worth had been paramount to these two.

Straightening, he motioned to the door with his head and the two quietly exited into the hallway. James closed the heavy wood door and pointed to a door to the right of the room Helen currently occupied. "You can rest in that bedroom." Using his other hand, he motioned to the door across from Helen's room. "That one's the bathroom. There should be fresh towels inside and I'll have my man bring up fresh water and other necessary toiletries."

John nodded his thanks. His body's exhaustion was starting to catch up with him and sleep sounded good. However, he thought that if he tried to lie down right now his mind would not quiet itself down to allow slumber to come. "What I could really use right now is a drink," he remarked.

Watson chuckled. "Me too. Let's head down to the library and pour ourselves one… or a few," he muttered, leading the way to the staircase and heading down. Behind him he heard John's soft footsteps take up the rear. For such a large man Druitt really did move quietly and rather fluidly. Probably all the better to stalk his prey James mused wryly. If he wasn't so damned tired he would have made sure John was walking in front of him where Watson could keep an eye on him. He was being followed by Jack the Ripper and frankly James was too tired to care. Life did have its little ironies, didn't it?


	8. History Repeats Itself, Sort of

Author's note: The events in this chapter take place at the end of chapter 1. To recap, a shaken up James and Future John were down in the library boozing it up while Future Helen was recovering upstairs. Present Helen arrives at the end, causing John to flee and James covers by letting her believe that it was Present John that had visited him to apologize. Yea, this is a little confusing. Sorry. Time travel can get really complicated. I'll try to not to flip back and forth as much in the future.

Also, a few of the lines in this chapter were taken from Tempest and credit for those go to the writers of Sanctuary.

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 8: History Repeats Itself, Sort of

"James, what's going on? What exactly did John say to you? Did he admit to the latest killings?" she asked in quick succession and sat down in the chair Druitt had abandoned. "I want to know everything he said to you," she chided as she pulled back the hood of her silver-blue cloak.

Handing her the glass, Watson took in her porcelain complexion, flushed cheeks and golden locks arranged ever so carefully around her face. Her angelic beauty struck him hard and caused him to sigh deeply. Oh, Helen, what have you done to yourself, he morosely wondered, thinking of dark haired, wounded angel recuperating upstairs in his guest bedroom.

Helen took a deep sip of the Brandy he handed her and then began launching a series of questions at him.

An hour later James felt he had successfully handled the situation. He had convinced her that the man she had overheard earlier was their John and that Druitt only paid a visit to apologize. It was utter balderdash, of course. The John Druitt from their timeline would never have come to James to apologize for attacking Helen. He was far too gone into his fits of insanity. Druitt was also bitter over the closeness between James and Helen and blamed Watson for putting the idea into Helen's head that he was behind the latest series of killings. He'd more likely murder Watson than share a glass of Brandy with him.

Helen was feeling much calmer now. She had consumed a large glass of liquor and was reclining comfortably in the wing chair, her feet propped up on a worn tapestry covered footstool. Her blue slippers and ankles were visible and she didn't care. The steady rhythm of the fire's crackling and popping lulled her into a contemplative mood as she stared quietly into the now dying fire.

Though she had come to accept James's explanation of what occurred with John earlier, she still found the whole incident unsettling. The Druitt that had attacked her in her home was unstable and angry. The man she overheard speaking to James this evening sounded lucid and calm. They were two different versions of the same man. How could that be? Had John gotten better somehow? If so, how long would it last? The questions whirled around in her brain unanswered.

James too was lost in his own thoughts. This evening had been surreal and the events replayed themselves before his very eyes as he stared unseeing into the fire.

After she had left to go "hunting," Watson had grabbed a different coat, a hat that hid his face, his gun and riding crop, and had set off after her. He had hung back out of sight as he had followed Future Helen, his nickname for the older, dark haired version of Dr. Magnus, through the seedy maze of back streets of London only to arrive just in time to see her fleeing in the opposite direction while being pursued by the Future Worth. Watson picked up his pace to pursue the pair. Distant, loud noises helped him pinpoint their direction. He was careful not to alert them to his presence yet. The weapon Worth was using sounded powerful and Watson was hesitant to attack Adam until he could observe him further. One should always get a feel for their opponent before engaging if possible.

The incident in the warehouse was still mind tripping no matter how many times he replayed it in his head. Worth might have succeeded in killing Helen and Watson if Future Druitt had not shown up unexpectedly with Worth's child.

Future Helen. Present Helen. Future John. Present John. Present James. Good Lord! This whole time travel thing was going to give him a massive aneurism.

John had jokingly suggested that he had been chasing the dragon today and thus this whole thing was just one long drug induced scenario. James scoffed. Please. None of his cocaine injections had produced such a crazy scenario as tonight. He certainly would never have dreamt up Adam Worth or a bald Druitt. Nor a brunette, profane version of his lovely golden Helen. If this was a drug trip it would have been far more pleasant and less painful. The bruises from engaging Worth in battle were no doubt lovely shades of black and blue by now.

And Future John's presence was still unexplained. Helen had told him that she and John had been pursuing Adam before she followed Worth back in time. John must have somehow followed her as she followed Adam.

A loud sigh from Helen pulled him from his reverie. He turned to see her looking at him through half droopy blue eyes. "Ready for bed now are you, darling?" he smiled. She gave a soft smile back. "Yes. I must confess that I am ready to retire for the evening. I have not been sleeping well these past few days." She didn't have to explain to him why.

Well timed chimes from a grandfather clock in the corner told them it was approaching eleven p.m. James stood and extended his hand to help her up. She gladly accepted and stood. His one arm went about her waist whilst the other continued to hold her hand. They moved together around the chairs and stopped behind them for Helen to collect her cloak when they heard a commotion beyond the closed library doors.

"Open the door. Open it now or I'll throttle ya!" an angry man's voice came. "Sir!" Langley called out to stop the man but it was too late. Adam Worth came barging through the library door, startling the pair inside.

"Adam!" James and Helen exclaimed in unison. Watson's spine stiffed automatically and his grip on Helen's hand tightened. Adam Worth was dead. James had killed him just hours before. The one standing before them must be the younger version of Adam.

A distraught Worth had stopped in his tracks at the sight of them. He looked like he had been crying and his clothes were dirty. "So here ya are. I should have known she would be with here with you."

"Whatever is the matter, Adam?" Helen asked, confused. She had not seen Mr. Worth since their Oxford days and was surprised at his reaction to her presence.

Watson quickly racked his mind for the whereabouts of the nearest weapon as he addressed his adversary. "What do you want, Adam? It's a late hour to come calling." James nodded to his manservant who took his hint and closed the door, leaving the three to converse in private.

"It's me daughter, Imogene," Worth cried out in despair. "She's dead." Helen gasped "Dear Lord" as Adam pointed an accusing finger at James. "If you'd have helped, she'd still be alive right now. Her blood is on your hands." He spitefully turned the moving finger on to Helen. "And your hands!"

"Me? What? Adam, I don't understand," Helen said, her blonde curls ruffling as she shook her head. "I…" she tried to continue before being cut off by James.

Watson moved his body to such an angle as to place himself in front of her. "Adam, whatever it is that has happened, I am truly, truly sorry for your loss. However, surely you cannot hold us responsible," he reasoned.

The devastated father's face was contorted in anguish. "You said you would help find her. And now she's dead. My sweet little angel is dead. The police found her body among the rubble of an abandoned warehouse."

"That's terrible!" Helen gasped, her hand moving up to her mouth in horror.

"You said you'd help find her!" Worth shrieked again, causing the objects of his ire to flinch. A loud sob escaped him and his put his fists to his bloodshot eyes as another gut wrenching sob escaped him.

"Oh, you poor man," Helen said in concern. She took a step to move toward him and was shocked when James grabbed hold of her arm to stop her. Turning to him, she gave her friend a questioning glance.

Adam noticed how possessive Watson was acting towards the woman. He turned his glare on her. "You. You caused this."

Her head swiveled back to look at Adam, noticing for the first time the hatred in his eyes for her. "I beg your pardon?" she asked, getting slightly indigent herself. Helen could understand he was distraught over the death of his child but why level his charges against her? This was the first she had ever heard about him having a child, let alone one that had just died.

Adam snarled as he laid his case before them. "He promised to help me find my missing child. Everyone knows he's a brilliant detective. That he can solve even the most difficult of cases. He would have found Imogene before it was too late if he hadn't been so preoccupied with you!"

"That's preposterous!" Watson tossed back. He couldn't believe this was happening. Again! According to Future Helen, Adam had blamed her and James for not being able to cure the girl the first time she died. Now here he was blaming them for her death a second time when he had no clue about Watson and Future Helen's involvement in that warehouse. The timeline had been altered but the same cause and effect was taking place, just in a different manner.

Helen was staring at Adam like he had two heads. It had been almost 10 years since they'd seen one another. She always thought there was something a little off about him. And then there was his bizarre research that produced two headed mice, his fascination with toxins, and his anger at being rejected from membership into The Five. She also vaguely recalled some rumors about him blowing up a laboratory ten years ago.

Her blunt stare back at him incensed Worth further. Looking harder, he noticed her flushed cheeks, slightly rumpled clothing, her cloak resting unforgotten over the back of one of the wing chairs, and an almost empty decantur with glasses on a nearby table. And on the ground near her feet were a pair of ladies gloves. They had obviously finished a rendezvous right before Worth had arrived.

Adam made a point of slowly picking up her gloves, then straightened up and looked down at them intently. They were expensive, well made ladies gloves. Miss Magnus had always been impeccably well dressed and it was no secret her father had some means. Magnus Senior had used his connections to aid his only child in gaining access to Oxford, a strictly male dominated arena. He was an indulgent father who would not deny his spoiled offspring anything she wanted, even the ridiculous such as an Oxford education. Worth, who had come from very humble means and struggled to support himself and his family, took umbrage with this.

"They were all rather preoccupied with you, weren't they, Helen? Back in Oxford? Druitt, Watson, even Tesla. You led them around like panting puppies, didn't you? That's the real reason I was not allowed to join your little inner group. You couldn't wrap me around your little finger and pull my strings like a marionette."

He glanced up at her and Helen felt a shiver run down her spine. She was beginning to think that the man was losing his grip on his sanity. He was basically accusing her of impropriety with the other members of The Five. True, the group had done a lot of things that were socially unacceptable, like injecting themselves with vampire blood and nicking a few items here and there for their lab, but they had certainly not all slept together. She could feel her face flushing with embarrassment at Adam's vicious words. Helen was many things but she most certainly was not a slut. John was the only one she had slept with and they did get engaged. The fact that they did not marry was not her fault.

"That's enough, Worth," James barked and stepped before him. "You either leave now willingly or I will throw you out," he promised angrily. Adam had crossed the line and James was pretty much ready to knock him flat. His fists were both bunched up ready to strike.

Adam spat out, "Of course you would come to her defense, like a good watch dog!" then held up his hands as James raised one fist. Their faces were taunt with anger as the two men squared off. "Fine, I'll go. But this won't be the last you hear from me," he promised and threw the gloves at Helen before whirling around and marching out.

James took a deep, harsh breath and tried to rein in his temper before turning back to Helen. She was standing stock still, red faced and looking completely stunned. She had managed to catch one glove while its mate lie on the floor near the fireplace. She opened her mouth twice to say something then quickly shut it. She was at a loss as to what to say.

In a few long strides he retrieved the glove, returning to reach for one of her hands as he pressed the glove into her other. He gave her hand a hard squeeze and then let go. "Pay him no mind," Watson softly told her, tilting her chin up with a finger. "He's upset over his child's death and he needed someone to take his anger out on."

Helen nodded. Her eyes were watery and a silent tear fell onto her cheek. Another followed. This had been a most trying week for her. First, John had attacked her in her own home while at the same time telling her she had still his heart. Then Adam had attacked her for being responsible for his child's death and for keeping him out of The Five. She just wanted to go home, curl underneath her covers and have a good cry.

Watson's heart broke at the sight of her tears. The poor thing had no clue what was happening and was innocent of everything Worth had accused. "It's alright, darling. Let it go. You have done nothing wrong." He wiped away the tears and pulled her into his arms. She clung to him and laid her head on his shoulder. A few more tears fell and she swiped at them with her gloves.

James kissed her forehead and leaned back. "Let us get you home. The hour is late and you should be in bed." She gave him a weak, watery smile and nodded. James helped her into her cloak and they exited the library to walk to the front entrance. She was surprised when he stopped at the hall closet to grab his coat and hat.

"I can manage on my own, James," she assured him. "You don't have to escort me home."

"Oh yes I do," he said flatly in a tone that brokered no argument. He quickly put on the coat and slapped on his hat. "I am taking no chances with you tonight. I am taking you home and that is final." She didn't argue, instead grateful for his company. It had been one hell of a night they both thought silently to themselves as they left Watson's home.


	9. Mother and Child

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 9: Mother and Child

A bright flash of red light announced Druitt's arrival in the guest room Helen was currently occupying. He couldn't believe how things had gotten so out of hand this evening. The events in the warehouse became a tragic mess that had resulted in the deaths of Worth and his only child. Then Helen became ill and would have died had John not found the cure among Adam's possessions. And he and Watson had managed to put aside their differences in order to ply themselves with liquor to numb the shock… only to have the younger version of Helen show up and stirring things up again.

In the tall-backed chair in the library, John had been facing in the opposite direction and never saw her nor she him. Yet, when Druitt realized who had entered the room the hairs on the back of his neck and arms had stood up on end. He instinctively knew he and Young Helen could not see nor interact with one another and it was for that reason that he had teleported out of the room so quickly.

Across from him now lay the other Helen. John quietly walked over to look down at her asleep on the tall bed. The curtains were pulled back from the window on the wall opposite of the bed, allowing moonlight to stream through and bathe her in its glow.

Helen slept in a dim, softly golden spotlight. She had one arm curled around a pillow and the bed covers had fallen down to her waist. He could see where James had repaired her shoulder with five stitches. Her dark hair was still pinned up in tight curls around her face and he thought it must be uncomfortable for her to sleep with her hair that way. He reached out and softly stroked her hair, following the curl's circular winding. As he remembered, her hair was soft like silk. He itched to unpin her hair but restrained, knowing it would wake her up. Helen needed as much sleep as she could get. Back in the warehouse, he could tell from the dark circles under her eyes that she had not been getting much sleep. He was in the same boat. His body screamed at him that it was exhausted but he did not want to leave her side.

His eyes traveled over her face, now back to its normal coloring, and took in every cut, scratch and bruise. She looked like hell and yet he still found her to be the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her breath was even and soft, a sure sign she was deep in slumber. Her dark, naturally thick lashes fluttered lightly every now and then, and her full, soft lips which just begged to be kissed were slightly parted.

He raised a hand to touch her lips then dropped it. It was not often that Druitt got to observe her as unguarded as this and it made his always prevalent desire to touch her even stronger. However, he would not disturb her much needed rest. His eyes moved further down her body to watch the gentle rise and fall of her buxom chest, another part of her anatomy he quite worshiped. A cheeky smirk appeared as he remembered just how much he admired all the curves of her very feminine body.

He was pulled out of his stroll down memory lane by Helen's sudden thrashing out her arms before her and giving sharp cry of "no!" in her sleep. Her head turned to the side and she gave a series of low whimpers. "No," she repeated again in a very low tone.

John leaned in closer to her as he saw her shiver and her hands clutched the pillow hard. "Please," she cried softly, "don't go." Concluding she must be having a nightmare, he reached down and gently stroked of both her hands.

"It's okay. You're safe," he whispered softly. He was about to say "Adam can't hurt you any longer" when Helen gave a sad whimper and called out their daughter's name.

John stilled in shock. She was dreaming about Ashley. Imogene's death in the warehouse tonight must have reminded her of their daughter's death. He reached up to gently stroke her cheek to reassure her it was okay. She gave a soft sigh and her body relaxed as the dream began to fade. Her brown unfurled and her breathing returned to its steady pace. He stroked her face twice more, then leaned down and lightly kissed her forehead.

"I promise you, we will get our daughter back," he whispered in her ear and then leaned back. Yes, they would save their daughter and he knew exactly how they were going to do it. He watched Helen a minute longer before pulling the bed covers back up over her.

In Hollow Earth, Helen had accused him of wanting to throw away 100 years worth of her history merely to have the opportunity to bed her in another time. She was quite correct about him wanting to bed her but it was more than that. He wanted the family that he had lost due to the monster that had destroyed their lives.

She was wrong about him not appreciating the person she had become. His admiration for her only grew as the years passed. He could have the younger, blonder version of Helen right now. He knew she was still in love with him and he could spirit her way from the others and convince her that he was no longer the monster he had been. They could have children together and lead the life he yearned.

The problem was that he wanted the older, mature version of the girl he loved. She was the yen to his yang. They were equals in ways that no other could be. Her confidence and internal strength were very appealing. Her youthful appearance had been preserved by the vampire blood that coursed through her veins. He had loved her fair coloring with its combination of blonde hair and blue eyes in their youth. Her now black hair only enhanced those gorgeous blue eyes. He actually preferred her dark look and thought that they made an even more striking couple than in their youth. And as for children… well, she was already the mother of his child.

Stepping away, he went to over to the dark fireplace to pile on new logs and lit the match. The room was rather chilly and he was worried that she might catch a cold in her weakened state. She was probably fine but they both could use the warmth. Even in his leather clothing he could feel the chill. These old Victorian homes were rather drafty.

The flames licked the logs to life. John groaned and stretched out. At this moment he felt his century and a half plus age. Each joint and muscle in his body ached. He really needed to get some sleep. But rather than go into the room next door, he pulled off his long, leather jacket, sat down in the wing chair next to the fire and put up his feet onto the ottoman. The coat he pulled up over him as a blanket, he leaned his head back and gave a deep, tired sigh.

Ever since he had found all of Adam's belongings in that small flat the idea had been planted into his head. Worth had successfully traveled time in order to save his only child. He would have succeeded had he not crossed hairs with members of The Five. Though they were each selfish in their own way and had their own agendas, they could, when necessary, they pull together and be a tour de force. Adam's malevolent focus on Helen had drawn Nikola, James and John's hands against him. The fool should have left her alone and just gone after his daughter.

Course, if he had done that then John wouldn't have been given the means to save his only child. Adam had been working on calculating his next time jump, this time with his daughter in tow, when Helen had interrupted him. In his haste to pursue her, he had left everything about on the table, including his notebook.

John was by no means the brightest of The Five and he certainly was not a genius like Tesla or Magnus. There were two areas, however, in which he had excelled in his youth. He was a good debater, which was why he had decided to become a barrister. He could argue with the best of them and sway even the most stubborn of persons. Helen fell under that category, he thought with a smile. He was also quite good in the area of mathematics. What no one else knew about him was that, during those times when he was able to wrestle control from the energy elemental, John read about mathematical theory and worked on math equations as a way to still his mind. Working out those complicated formulas was a form of meditation for him. It bored the elemental into a lull… at least for a while before it became restless and bloodthirsty again.

Those skills were going to come in handy as he worked towards reclaiming what was lost to him. He was going to get back the only woman he'd ever loved and the child that was stolen from them. It wouldn't be easy but he could be a patient man, especially now that he didn't have an insane, killer entity possessing his body.

His thoughts shifted to the child he barely knew. Their brief history was not a pleasant one and he much regretted what had occurred between them. Ashley was strong willed, independent, and had quite a cheeky mouth on her. She didn't back down in the face of adversity and was intensely loyal to those she loved. She was a miniature version of her mother. Ashley was also incredibly beautiful and could be very sweet according to Helen.

The grief felt by the others in Helen's Sanctuary household at her loss bespoke of great affection for the child. He had heard that one could not miss what one never had but that wasn't true. He did feel the loss of his only child. She was the living embodiment of the love that tied him and Helen together for eternity. It was unacceptable that she no longer existed in their lives. He wanted his little golden child back.

One step at a time he reminded himself. He gave out a wide yawn and stretched out to crack his back. Reclaim the mother first, and then reclaim the child. It had to be done in that order. If he moved too fast or revealed too much too soon he was liable to lose them both, much like Adam had lost his battle. John had every intention of winning this war. He would not be distracted by thoughts of revenge or anger the way Worth had. He had a singular focus and would stay on that path.

However, God help anyone or anything that got in his way as he fulfilled his mission. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth at this thought as he drifted off to sleep. Montague John Druitt was not a man one wanted to cross.

Several hours later the wooden door to the bedroom creaked open and a man quietly entered the room. He walked silently over to the bed to check on the sleeping woman, afterwards turning his gaze onto the large man slumbering by the low burning fire.

This had to be one of the longest nights of his life, James thought tiredly. He had escorted the younger version of Helen home, had stayed a while to ensure that Worth would not suddenly pop up to attack her, and then dragged his exhausted body home.

He was not the least bit surprised to find Druitt asleep in Helen's room. At least he had the decency to sleep away from her James thought uncharitably. There was over 130 years of history between the two that Watson did not know but he had seen enough tonight to know that there was still unfinished business between them. And Druitt's possessiveness of her had not waned over the years. What had changed was that John seemed to be in control of his facilities and was lucid. For how long James wasn't sure. But he planned to find out one way or another. Helen's safety was important to him. If Druitt was still deranged Watson was going to have to find a way to stop him.

James put a few more logs into the fire, prodded it with the poker to agitate the flames before replacing the metal grate, and exited the room as quietly as he had entered. He needed to get some sleep before he engaged with these two again.


	10. What Does Watson Know?

Author's note: Just read the spoilers in the latest CH interview. I am so not a happy camper! : [ Well, this chapter isn't a big Druitt one but the next one is.

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 10: What Does Watson Know?

Helen Magnus woke up in a strange place. Sitting up in the bed, she glanced around and took in the setting. The room was functional, somewhat masculine in taste, and definitely Victorian with its heavy, dark furniture. The recent events flooded her head and she leaned back against the headboard and sighed.

The good news was that she was still alive, Worth was dead, and she had gotten to spend some time with her beloved best friend, James Watson. She smiled at the thought of James. She really did miss him. His death had been quite a blow to her and to be able spend more time with him, despite the crazy circumstances, was most welcome.

The bad news was she was stuck in 1899 London, a time period which she would much rather forget. And she was stuck here with John of all people. What on earth was he doing here? The last time she saw him he was being electrified by the coils in Hollow Earth in order to keep the time portal open long enough for her to follow after Adam Worth. He must have somehow gotten through the portal before it completely sealed. Why hadn't she seen his arrival? And how had he found them and gotten the girl to the warehouse? His whereabouts for those four days were yet to be explained.

The only way to resolve all these questions was to talk to him. Not something she was particularly looking forward to given the argument they had back in Hollow Earth before going back in time. She had been angry at his admission that he had not killed Adam in exchange for the possibility of going back in time and changing their history. She knew he was wounded by her proclamation that "when this is over, I don't want to see you again."

Perhaps that was why he followed her. To gain her forgiveness. Well, he wasn't going to get it, she angrily thought as she crossed her arms over her chest. The sudden movement caused a sharp pain in her shoulder and she remembered that Watson had to repair it. She was looking over at her stitches when there came a knock on the door and it opened to reveal James carrying a large tray of food.

"Ah, you're awake," he greeted her as he walked over to place the tray on the bedside table. "You have been asleep for such a while that I was prepared to wake you myself just to make sure you were still alive."

"How long have I been asleep?" she asked, looking out the window to see that the sun was starting to set outside. Surely she had not slept that long. "A few hours?"

He patted her hand. "Try about 20," he informed her and laughed at her startled "What?" "Obviously you needed the rest. Now, how about something to eat?" he asked as he motioned to the tray of food.

"Food sounds fabulous," she answered, her mouth positively drooling at the prospect of a good meal. A loud rumble from her stomach punctuated how hungry she was. James laughed as she clamped her hands onto her stomach to silence it and she laughed with him. "I must be starving."

He placed the tray across her lap and, with a flourish, whipped off the cover off the main plate to reveal a hearty English breakfast. Bacon, poached eggs, grilled tomato slices, sausages, and a potato and cabbage mix filled the plate. Buttered bread rested on another smaller plate and a tea pot and tea cup with saucer completed the offerings.

"Bubble and Squeak. I haven't had this in years!" she exclaimed and grabbed the fork to scoop up some of the potato and cabbage mix into her mouth. She swallowed and gave him a wide, happy smile, confirming that she liked what she was consuming.

"The future must be rather bleak dietary-wise for such a response to simple Bubble and Squeak. John reacted the same way," James mused as he sat down carefully on the bed.

At the mention of his name, Helen raised an eyebrow. "Where is John?" she asked.

Shrugging his shoulders, Watson replied, "He said he had some errands to run. He wanted to get some clothing to blend in."

"And you believe that?" she asked incredulously. This was John they were talking about.

"It's not as if we wear the same size, Helen. He cannot go about in his current state. He would end up in prison as quickly as you did when you arrived."

She swallowed another mouthful and nodded. "True. But the very idea of John running around 1899 London sends chills up my spine. There's no telling what he will do." She speared a tomato and roughly cut it up. "He cannot go about mingling with the populous and disrupting the timeline."

"You went about London and disrupted the timeline, even if for only a little bit," he pointed out.

The fork paused on its way to her mouth and she lowered it. "I did not have any choice. I had to stop Adam. It's not as if I was doing any of it for fun!" she defended herself. "I can assure you, I most definitely was not having fun."

"No need to get upset, dear. I was merely pointing out that he needed to go out to get a few supplies."

Helen narrowed her eyes at him. "Why are you defending him?" she demanded. "It is not as if you two are friends anymore. I'm surprised you aren't trying to shoot him or apprehend him or something."

James just stared at her intently.

"What?" she asked, looking down so that she would not have to meet his sharp gaze. She forked up some egg and bacon and quickly stuffed it in her mouth. She continued to avoid his penetrating eyes.

James raised his chin in challenge. "I am hardly defending John Druitt. I have no illusions about what he is or is not." He raised one eyebrow back at her. "Shooting John has always been your thing. And we both know he's next to impossible to catch if he does not want to be caught."

Leaning forward, he reached for the teapot and refilled her cup. "At the moment, he has not done anything requiring his apprehension to my knowledge. Is there something you want to tell me about?"

"Oh, he's done plenty," she grumbled and forked another mouthful up. Let me count the ways she thought to herself.

"Are you speaking of the recent slayings here?" he asked her sharply.

She met his eyes and shook her head. "Oh, God no. Nothing like that!"

He nodded. "Good, because I have a lead on that and it does not point to Druitt." He took her reaction to confirm his recent theory that the killer was someone else entirely.

Helping himself to one of her pieces of buttered toast, James shrewdly guessed, "Ah, then you must be referring to the fact that he aided Worth in the hopes of changing your tortured, romantic history into one of happily ever after."

Helen's head flew up to meet his eyes. "He told you about that?" she asked in surprise. John had only admitted the truth to her as a last result. That he would freely speak of it to James of all people was astonishing.

"Indeed, we had a most interesting chat last night over dinner," he nonchalantly answered and took a large bite out of the toast. He was finding her reaction to this little tidbit most fascinating.

She placed her fork and knife down hard onto the tray and stared at him. "Dear Lord. What did he tell you? You are not supposed to know about the future!"

James held up a hand. "Calm yourself, my dear. He only told me a few things which he felt would not change my timeline."

She pursued her lips unhappily at that, unsure of what to say in case she accidently revealed something that John had not.

James waited until she took a bite of her toast before adding smugly, "The rest I simply deduced."

The toast caught in her throat and she began choking. He grinned at her and handed her the linen napkin. She gave him an angry glare and, once she had stopped coughing, croaked out, "You did that on purpose!"

"Guilty as charged," he admitted, with not the least bit of regret in his tone.

She took a large sip of her tea, daintily wiped at her mouth and, with a still scratchy voice, ordered him to "Forget everything he told you. Whatever it was, just let it go. Pretend you never heard any of it."

Pinching his fingers together, he made a motion of pulling an imaginary thought from his brain and throwing it away. "Right. All forgotten." James smirked back at her.

"I am serious, James!" she wailed and dropped her hands down loudly onto the bed in despair.

James continued to smile as he watched her nostrils flare and her jaw set. She was going to kill John the next time she saw him. "I know you are."

She saw his amusement at the situation and sighed. "What am I going to do with you?"

He got up and straightened his vest and cravat. "What you have always done. Accept what is and adore me." That elicited a hearty laugh from her. "An informant has a lead for me and I must go now," he said as he prepared to leave.

"On the killings?" she guessed.

He nodded and tapped a finger affectionately on her nose. "Behave yourself while I am gone. I have told the servants that I have a distinguished guest staying here who must remain a secret. They are not to disturb you and will leave refreshments and other necessities outside your room."

"They must think it odd," she said and poured herself some more tea.

He shrugged. "They have worked for me for years. They are used to the unusual." He waited until she started to lift the cup up. "I imagine they probably suspect you are my secret mistress," he said mischievously and chortled as she spilled tea onto the tray.

"James!" she cried out and gave him an angry glare as she tried to sop up the liquid with her napkin.

He just laughed again and started towards the door. "I have ordered a hot bath be drawn up for you. The bathroom is across the hall, as you know." He turned around to look at her, his hand on the door knob. "You will want a good bath after a night of illicit lovemaking," he cracked and yanked the door open. He just managed to get on the other side of the door and close it as she threw a spoon at him.

The spoon made a loud clanging noise as it hit the door and bounced onto the floor. "Cheeky bastard," she yelled aloud. Watson's loud chortling could be heard outside the hall as he moved away from the door.


	11. Beautiful Dreamer

Author's note: Had to re-upload this chapter to fix a typo and added two sentences I had forgotten.

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 11: Beautiful Dreamer

The delicious English breakfast had sated her growling stomach. The radiation cure and a long, undisturbed slumber had done much towards healing her banged up body. And Watson's parting suggestion of a steaming hot bath sounded like pure heaven.

She had slipped eagerly out of bed only to find that her dress was nowhere to be found. He must have given the dress to the housekeeper for cleaning. Wrapping the afghan around her as modesty called for, Helen walked over to the door, pondering as she went what Mrs. Hudson, the housekeeper, would think of the shoulder tear on the dress.

The door cracked open just enough for the brunette doctor to peek out and make sure the hallway was clear before she pulled the door closed behind her and rushed across the hall to quickly enter the bathroom. She noiselessly shut the door and rested against it, unable to stop the giggles that escaped her lips. This was ridiculous. She was 161 years old and here she was sneaking around upstairs in the residence quarters of a Victorian home. It had been a long, long time since she had felt like a naughty youth.

This was all James Watson's fault she decided as she dropped the afghan and started to take off her layers of undergarments. His crack about the help thinking they were having an illicit affair had triggered her antiquated guilt complex. She couldn't believe he had said that… and he had waited to say it until he was certain she would be caught unaware and spill her tea!

She shook her head, amazed at his turnabout behavior. When she had first arrived five days ago, he had been mortified at her appearance and language. He had primly reprimanded her when she went off on younger Adam and ordered her to take herself home, so appalled was he by her uncouth behavior that he did not want to be in her company. Yet, here he was now teasing and acting mischievous, as if nothing had happened. It was all rather confusing.

What in the world had caused the change she wondered as she began unpinning her long hair. Had the near death experience in the warehouse caused him to toss all social mores out the window? Or had the prospect of closing in on the culprit of his latest case put him on such a euphoric high that he was openly flirting with her? It was all very odd… and very un-James-like.

Helen placed the pile of hair pins onto the sink counter before lifting her hands up to her head and combed through her long curls. Her head felt so much lighter with her hair down now and she scratched at her scalp roughly to increase the circulation on her head. The elaborate hair styles of the Victorian era were not only a pain to do up each day but a mighty weight upon the body.

She peered at herself in the large oval mirror hung above the sink and groaned. "I look like hell," she muttered. That was another thing against James. Why would he flirt with her when she looked at her worst? She wasn't sure whether she should be flattered or embarrassed. "Flattered. I am going with flattered," she told her reflection with stern look.

Turning away, she looked over at the claw footed tub filled high with steaming water and bubbles frosting the top. "Heaven," she sang and eagerly strolled over to climb in. The two thick bath towels she had picked up on her way were placed on the floor by one of the tub's feet. The water was a lot hotter than she expected and it took a few "Oohs" and "Ows" before she was able to completely lower herself down into the water. Sinking against the back of the tub, she gave a loud sigh, closed her eyes and relaxed. The hot water and bubbles smoothly glided over her bruised skin. She had not felt this good, or clean for that matter, in days.

Taking a deep breath, she sunk under the water then came up and attacked her hair with the shampoo. Unconsciously she began humming _Beautiful Dreamer_ as she worked. Helen sunk under again to rinse her hair, wrung out the water when she came up and, reaching over for the soap and bath brush, she lathered it up before scrubbing herself down. By the time she was done, her skin was pink and polished clean. "Heaven," she repeated and leaned back against the tub. Her dark, wet hair streamed like a wave over the side of the tub and hung down halfway down to the ground.

Giving out a loud sigh, she closed her eyes, sunk down to her chin in the still warm water and relaxed. She stretched out a few times and allowed her feet to dangle over the foot of the tub while her arms rested on the sides of the tub's high rim. A serene expression bore across her face as tendrils of her dark hair curled around it. She sighed happily with her eyes closed the whole while and commenced humming once more.

Feeling human again, Helen's thoughts drifted back to James. He seemed so much more relaxed with her this morning. Her brow furrowed. Come to think of it, he seemed perfectly calm about John's presence, which was completely out of character given where the two stood in their relationship in this timeline. Why would he be so complacent about the idea of Druitt wandering about freely in the city? The man is supposed to be a homicidal lunatic. Is a homicidal lunatic.

She recalled him saying "The rest I simply deduced" in his most smug, pompous fashion.

"Oh my God!" She gasped loudly, her eyes bursting wide with realization. A scream escaped her mouth as her eyes landed upon the unexpected figure of Druitt sitting nearby. Throwing her arms across the top of her chest, Helen pulled herself back under the water until only the top of her head was visible over the tub's rim and glared at him. "What the hell are you doing in here, John!" she sputtered as water dripped down her face from her sudden movements.

He was easily slouched on the small chair that accompanied the vanity parallel to the tub. His long legs were sprawled before him touching the base of the tub and he had his hands resting on his knees. He was dressed immaculately in dark slacks, a crisp white shirt and a pinstriped vest. Helen's mouth dropped open slightly as she took in the sight of him. It had been a long time since she had seen him dressed this way and wordlessly she gave him a long once over from head to foot.

A small smile played on his lips as he appreciated her reaction to him and his eyes twinkled. This was the best view he had had of his beloved in over a century. Her skin was all rosy and her wet hair curled around her face like a halo. She was a beautiful, very _naked_ angel. Strike that. A beautiful, very naked, very pissed off angel. But she was still naked he thought and his smile widen even further.

A loud knock at the door interrupted before he could answer, startling both. "Miss, miss, are you alright?" an older woman's voice called through the door.

Helen turned her head towards the door and answered, "I am fine, thank you. I just… I just got some soap in my eye. Nothing to worry about," she rushed her explanation, praying the woman would not suddenly enter and find Helen bathing with a man in the room. That was quite improper, especially if one were not married. Which she was not.

"Alright, miss. Would you be needing anything else?" the polite reply came back. Declining, Helen was relieved when she heard the woman's footsteps move down the hall. She turned her attention back to John, who still bore his silly smile.

"Why are you in my bathroom," she hissed through clenched teeth as she continued to compress herself down into the water. Her front she pressed the side of the tub as she twisted sideways to confront him. "And how _dare_ you teleport in here to spy on me while I am bathing!" she snarled. The man's gall was unbelievable.

Druitt noted the two red streaks that had appeared on her cheeks and the way her eyes had become a darker, stormy shade of blue. "Firstly, this is not your bathroom. It is the bathroom for all the guests on this floor, including me," he drawled, causing her to further narrow her eyes at him. "Secondly, I did not teleport in here. I walked in. As anyone could have without your notice since you had your eyes closed and were loudly humming to yourself."

He tilted his head thoughtfully and got a far off look in his eyes. "You hummed that same tune the night we sat in the bath together in your father's house. Remember? You in front, resting upon my chest, the smell of lavender and vanilla surrounding us, and only candles as a source of light. Servants safely tucked away in their quarters for the night so as not to disturb us," He paused before continuing, "It was the most perfect of evenings. A rare time alone without the fear of interruption." The last sentence he said softly, wistfully.

The long forgotten memory slammed into her and her lips parted as if a breath had been knocked out of her lungs. It was the first time they had bathed together and it was one of her favorite memories from their long, volatile romance. Instead of opening a wound, his words had caused a flood of warm longing to fill her. It was unexpected and the emotions that it triggered showed in her eyes.

He reached out and touched a wet curl dangling near one of his knees. "Of course, you were a blonde then. And my hair was probably as long as yours is today." He smiled at the recollection. "I never thought the day would come when you'd be the dark haired one and I would be bald," he mused with a small laugh.

She gave a tinkling laugh at the irony before realizing what he was doing and swatted his hand away. "You still haven't answered my question, what the hell are you doing in here?" she demanded.

Undaunted, he shrugged. "I wanted to talk to you. I went looking for you when you weren't in your room and found you here. I figured it was as good as any place to talk." He grinned at her. "At least here I know you'll stay still and speak with me."

"Oh, really," she raised a rebellious eyebrow at him, "and why would that be?" She gasped as he slowly held up two towels in his left hand and continued to grin at her in silence. Looking down she realized that he had taken the towels she had placed next to the tub and was holding them for ransom. "Give those to me!" she demanded. "Right now, John Druitt or so help me I'll…"

"You'll what?" he obnoxiously prompted her. He knew the good doctor well. No way was she coming out of that water naked before him unless absolutely necessary. He wasn't going to force her hand as he did truly wish to talk to her. John knew that he was taking a confrontational approach with her but he needed to do something to get the wheels of communication in motion. Their last argument in Hollow Earth weighted heavy on his mind. She had told him that she never wanted to see him again. She meant it. If he did not get her to engage, be it in argument or civilized conversation, she would turn her back to him and push him away, possibly for good. And that was simply not something he was going to allow.

He had not missed how she had reacted to James. Her tone got softer, she tried to temper her language to that of a proper English maiden, and a look of great affection shone from her eyes. She missed Watson. He understood. He missed his old friend too. Their conversation last night had been eye opening for both men and John hoped it would turn a corner for them.

"I know where the guns are in this house," she threatened, "so it would be wise to just hand me the towels and for you to quietly exit… _NOW_."

He snorted and made a show of draping the towels across his hips. "I am sure you do. You know, for someone who always claims that violence is not the right answer, your first impulse is always to reach for a firearm or threaten to reach for a firearm. What does that say about yourself, hmmm?"


	12. A Game of Chess

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 12: A Game of Chess

She blew a curl that was tickling her nose out of her face. "What it says is that you are a royal pain in my backside and I have to use a firearm to keep you in line."

"Except it's not just me. You're rather fond of shooting Tesla as well, though that one I can understand. Who doesn't want to shoot that little megalomaniac?" John thought about Helen's clever but whiny protégé, Will, and thought if he had a shooting list that young William would be in the top ten. Zimmerman's fretful "But, Magnus!" exclamations often grated on John's nerves.

Helen cocked her head and pointed at him. "He, much like you, can be a royal pain the arse and deserved every shot I took at him. Neither of you are innocents by any means. He, however, would be enough of a gentleman to not intrude on me in such a private moment. And of course James is the best man of you lot." She gave him a smug look to emphasize her favorable comparison of Nikola and James over John.

He frowned. Helen was beautiful, clever and she knew it. She knew how to get what she wanted and what to say to a man to get him to do exactly as she desired. Praising Nikola and James were her way to sticking it to Druitt. She knew very well he did not handle his jealousy well, especially where those two men were concerned. As members of The Five, they were the only two true rivals for Helen's affections.

Resting her chin on her hand as it curled over the rim of the tub, Helen waited for John's explosion. He had been looking far too comfortable in this setting and she figured the best way to get rid of him without having to expose herself was to fire up his temper. A few more barbs about how much better Druitt's two counterparts were and John would be storming off in a snit. Then she'd retrieve her forgotten towels, get dressed and find one of those guns. She would make sure he knew just how displeased she was about him intruding in on her bath time. She smiled a bit at that last thought.

John observed her self-satisfied posture and countenance and managed to keep his temper in check. Check. What a perfect choice of words to fit the little game they were playing. He leaned forward, bringing his hands together in the steeple pose and eyed her intently.

Chess was a game he and Watson enjoyed playing. Two opponents moving against one another, each intent on capturing all the pieces and clearing the board. The little game he and his beloved were currently playing was a different version of that strategy game. Two stubborn individuals fighting for control, each intent on winning their way by knocking aside all obstacles in their path to clear the board.

Visually, he pictured the board. He, as the dark king, at one end. Helen, clearly the lovely queen in white, at the opposite side of the board. Between them stood the various pieces to be moved about and out of the way.

The issue of trust was represented in the form of the bishop, the next most important piece on the board. John had to earn her trust once again. Not an easy feat but a necessary one. That would come with time. And God knows they had time on their hands being stuck in this hell hole of a time period.

The other bishop was in the form of Gregory Magnus. Helen's father was zealot in his role to protect and study the abnormals of the world. His work was the most important thing in his life, possibly even more than his only child whom he adored. In order for John's plan to come to fruition, Gregory would make his way onto the playing board.

The knight was in the form of Watson, a well educated, wealthy and loyal man. John had made a small inroad with James last night, something Helen knew nothing about. Or if James did mention their dinner, John doubted that he would divulge all of their conversation to Helen. Watson was not only good at keeping a secret, he enjoyed knowing something others did not.

When Tesla would enter the game, he would be in the form of a rook. A formidable, protective tower that John would have to knock out of the way or be able to turn to his aid. John hoped that Nikola would be of help to them because he seriously doubted that Helen would allow him to kill their old friend. She was far too fond of their old classmate.

And eventually there would be his little golden child. There was no piece that correctly represented Ashley. She was the princess, second only to her mother the queen. After John claimed Helen they, as a united front, would reclaim their lost child.

Everything else, anyone else would serve as pawns. They were expendable.

Correction, there was one other he had to concern himself with… the boy. Helen had raised him as her own child and they were plainly close. Henry was unquestionably devoted to her, a strong point in his favor, and Ashley had clearly been fond of him, another point in the boy's favor. Yes, Mr. Foss was going to have to be brought into the fold in order to complete their family. The only piece that fit him would be a knight… he would be Helen's little knight. His amazing technical skills had often come in handy in the protecting Helen's team. They would be useful in protecting the family that was to come.

Such were the thoughts that ran through Druitt's head as he weighed his options for making his second move. His first had been to invade her bath time and force her to engage in the game. Her first move had been to toss his rivals, James [the knight] and Nikola [the rook], in his face in order to upset him so that he would end the game.

Helen's confidence began to slip as John's silence lingered on. Several emotions flittered across his broad face as he contemplated some unknown, deep thought. She saw what she felt was focus, determination, amusement – at what she had no idea, and resolve. The last one was what had her worried. His temper showed no danger of flaring up, which in itself was a big surprise, and she racked her head for her next line of attack. Her concentrate was lost when he suddenly smiled disarmingly at her.

You want to dance? Alright, my love, we'll dance, Druitt thought. He positively purred at the anticipation of their upcoming mental game of chess. Like her, he loved a challenge. It was one of the traits they both had in common. Stubbornness and determination were two others.

"Watson and Tesla were and can be perfect gentleman. That was one of the reasons it took them decades to work up the nerve to confess their affections for you. I, on the other hand, have been clear and forthcoming about my admiration from the start. That was one of the reasons you chose me." He gave her an arrogant little raise of his brow and bowed his head as if to confirm that fact.

She snorted. "Please. That is so not true. You were just as reserved and proper as the other four. Well, at least at first. You were all 'Yes, Miss Magnus' this and 'As you please, Miss' that. It was _Miss_, _Miss_, _Miss_ for almost two years! I don't think you even knew my first name was Helen."

He snorted back at her. "That was called manners. It was the Victorian era, after all. If I had responded in any other way, you and the others would have considered me a barbarian."

Scowling, she retorted, "You are a barbarian. Hence, your inappropriate presence in my bath." She shifted in the tub. The water had cooled and goose bumps appeared on her on her arms. Her hair was starting to feel like ice. She really needed to get out of the bath. "But let us get back to the point."

"Which is?" Druitt drawled lazily. He knew she was getting cold by the way she was starting to clench her jaw and had thrown her arms around her shoulder tight. She would be wanting her towels really soon. He tried to give her an innocent smile which only caused her to glare at him again.

"The point," she spat through clenched teeth, "is what did you say to James? He's been behaving a little strangely. If you told him anything that causes serious changes to the timeline I will…" she threatened again. "Well, I'll do something!" she barked at him and tossed her head in annoyance.

He rolled his eyes at her. "Are we back to you threatening to shoot again? Temper, temper," he tsked at her. "And I have not said anything to James that would cause issues to his timeline. What he might infer from my comments I cannot help. He is _le detective extraordinaire_," John said with an exaggerated tone of awe.

She sighed loudly to show her unhappiness with how this whole situation was turning out. Druitt was determined not to leave her alone and she didn't once believe his claim that he had not clued James in to things that the sleuth was not to know. Pursing her lips, she gave him a stern look and steeled herself to rise up out of the bath. She was freezing and had no intention of allowing him to hold her hostage here all day. Unwrapping her arms, she placed her hands on the rim of the tub and slowly began to get up, naked be damned.

He held his hands up at her to still her motions. "Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist. Oh, right… you aren't wearing any." He smiled as she inhaled a harsh breath at his brashness. "Don't fret, luv. I haven't peeked in… yet."

"That's it." She pointed a finger at him. "Once I'm out of this bath I'm going to find the biggest gun in this house and hunt you down" she promised him. "It's not as if killing you will change the timeline," she smugly informed him.

He smiled from ear to ear in triumph. "Ah, so we began our dance anew," he said pleased and handed her the towels as he rose to stand. He laughed softly as she swore, "Son of a bitch!" and yanked the towels from his hand.

Waggling his eyebrows at her, he let her know that "I await your hunt with baited breath." He then unexpectedly turned around to give her some privacy.

Holding out the large towel, she rose up behind it and quickly wrapped it around herself. "That is NOT what I meant, John Druitt" she began. "We are not doing our dance again!"

Grinning at the wall, he murmured, "No, we are doing something else," thinking again of their mental game of chess. She had responded to his second move in a better fashion than he had hoped.

"What did you say?" she demanded as she climbed out of the tub and stood close behind him. Of all the times not to have a weapon ready on hand she thought sarcastically. Here he was, within grabbing distance and with his back turned too. She could always knock him out cold with a proper hit to the back of the neck she cogitated. And then drag him into the bath to drown. Sure, he'd be heavy but where there was a will there was a way. She smiled to herself.

As if sensing her malicious train of thought, he turned his head to peer at her over his shoulder, causing her to stiffen, and said, "If you kill me, you will never know what I told James. And that would be a shame because he seemed really fascinated by our conversation. In fact, he used the word fascination twice."

Helen opened her mouth to reply only to have him wink at her and teleport out of the room. "Argh!" she yelled and sat down on the rim of the claw footed tub. "That man drives me crazy!"


	13. Sherlock Holmes

Author's note: Helen's sanctuary line is taken from the Tempest episode. The words, along with the characters, belong to the show's writers. The rest of the stuff here I just made up.

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 13: Sherlock Holmes

Kneeling down with his lantern, he stared at the dark, fading stains. This was where the victim had died. Through his trusty magnifying glass, specially cut and shaped for best viewing power, he could see two sets of four sharp scratches mixed in with the stains. He turned his head and looked back towards where the trail had started, maybe 20 feet away. That was where the attack occurred, leading to where Watson now kneeled. Any traces of footsteps had long been trampled away by the police and many of the city's inhabitants coming to and fro. However, the scratches, maybe an eighth of an inch deep, remained.

James stood up and tapped the glass against his stomach as he cogitated. The pattern was the same as the others. Though he had noticed all the individual details at each murder site, he had not pieced together the pattern until the last two attacks. He had thought perhaps the scratches were caused by a yet unidentified murder weapon. It was something curled, slim and sharp, like a cat's talon. Only that didn't make any sense.

The last murder, five nights ago, was the turning point. The scratches stuck out in his mind more clearly, bringing together the evidence pieces like a jigsaw puzzle. Future Helen's comments helped him narrow down the most important pieces. She had admitted that perhaps her presence had altered the timeline a bit, for the victim should have been the final one and that Watson should have already solved the case. He needed to expedite solving this case or otherwise the timeline would be more greatly altered and another victim would die. The death of an additional victim, one that should not have died in the correct timeline, would cause a domino effect – any future descendents of hers, for all the victims were women, would never come to be. How many future generations would that wipe out? Three? Four? The very idea was horrifying.

His conversation with John had touched on the murders too. It was the one time that Druitt had truly tensed up and started to get angry with him. James expected John to lose his temper when he brought up the killings but amazingly the accused managed to keep his emotions under control. Druitt had suggested the culprit was unable to help himself, that he was in need of a special kind of help, one only someone like Watson could dispense. It was an odd turn of phrase.

James had frowned at John as Helen's words came back to mind:

"Remember the purpose of the Sanctuary. To find and help unfortunate creatures, to protect them. To keep the public safe. Do that, and this case will be solved without any further bloodshed."

"_To keep the public safe"_ rang in his head like the loud clang of a grandfather clock. It replayed itself twice more before James accepted the truth. 

Future Helen and John had both given him hints to the identity of the killer. It was someone or something like them… an abnormal. That changed Watson's whole perspective on the case. The next morning, he had sent out his Baker Street Irregulars, the sly, grubby group of street children he employed from time to time, to inquire about any oddities others in the area of the murders had noticed. The little group had divided up the forty block radius and within a span of 8 hours they returned, each with similar stories. A fast, shadowy figure had been noticed in the area that would disappear in the air whenever a person tried to get close or follow it. Poof! Right into thin air.

That in itself was quite disturbing. It pointed right back to John Druitt, the only abnormal Watson knew of that could disappear into thin air. But it obviously wasn't him or else Helen would not have tried to steer James elsewhere. Given her difficult history with John, Helen was not likely to protect him if he were the killer.

John, as the prime suspect, would undoubtedly try to deflect the blame off himself. In their conversation last night, Druitt had deliberately given him important hints about some of the things that occurred in their timeline. Hints as to why he did the things he did and why he would no longer behave in such a way. It was evident that John wanted his one time friend to understand the truth, or the truth as he saw it.

Voices came nearby as people passed the street corner, pulling James out of his thoughts. Though it was slightly after four in the morning, assorted people bundled up in coats and hats had started to hurry up and down the street on their way to their jobs. This was a depressed area, with the warehouses and factories just blocks away to the left where unfortunate poor souls, many children, slaved away long hours in back breaking jobs. A few blocks to the right one would find bakeries, shops and pubs that were not quite so run down. London was a huge, bustling city, even in the earliest hours of the day.

James took a deep breath, exhaled in disgust at the smell of London's grimy air, and he put the magnifying glass back into his coat pocket. The knowledge that he was already behind schedule solving these murders gnawed at him incessantly. He felt as if time was slipping through his fingers and thus he had forgone sleep, choosing instead to follow up on his leads and revisit all the crime sites.

This was the final site, he hoped. James slowly did a 360 degree turn, staring first at everything within eye level. He did another 360 turn, this time holding his lantern up so he could look higher to the tops of the buildings surrounding him. The setting was the same as the others and visiting them in both daylight and night time helped fill in the grey areas of the puzzle. Watson now understood why the murder settings were chosen.

Lengthening his back and neck to stretch out some of the tension he felt, James turned to move toward the street, his footsteps echoing a sharp clip-clop in the otherwise vacant alley. The lantern swinging lightly in his hand threw elongated, twisted shadows along the brick walls and the ground. As he worked his way around to the front side of the building, he kept his eyes confidently focused forward while all of his senses were acutely tuned in to everything around him.

The Source Blood had raised his mental capabilities to soaring heights, which in turn had strengthened his fighting and tracking skills. He was used to wandering around London at odd hours with no real concern about his safety. Anyone foolish enough to interfere with him would soon learn of their folly. James was not used to losing a match and on those rare occasions, if he did, he would replay every detail in his head to learn of his errors so as not to repeat them. He did try hard to learn from his mistakes.

The spinning whirlwind that was his mind many times made it difficult to sleep. Like most of The Five, James required less sleep than most people. Strength and stamina seemed to be the most common side effects from the vampire blood they had injected themselves with not 10 years ago. Nigel was the only one who remained fairly normal in his sleeping habits.

The gift that was bestowed upon Watson required that he have something to keep him engaged in the world at most times, enough so that often he needed a puzzle or project to concentrate on or otherwise suffer a boredom of such intense proportions that he felt he could at times go mad. He once wondered if that was what had driven John insane. After receiving his gift, Druitt had become more and more preoccupied with teleporting from place to place and lost his focus on his career… and eventually the woman he loved.

The solving of mysteries helped Watson keep his mental aptitudes engaged so that his mind could otherwise remain clear and focused. He enjoyed the aspects of tracking, identifying the clues, working out the puzzle to arrive at a complete picture, and helping the innocent or helpless in their hour of need.

James paused in his thoughts as he reached the front door of one of the buildings which backed onto the alley he had just searched. Deftly he pulled out one of his many specially designed tools and within seconds had the door unlocked. He gave a cursory glance up the building before entering and slowly making his way up the staircase. His careful, soft footsteps on the wooden staircase did not disturb any of the sleeping tenants of the apartment building.

He returned to his former thoughts as he made his way up the six floors. Everything that he had become made him a natural in his work with Helen to carry on the legacy her father had begun. Their plans for the London Sanctuary were lofty and they had discussed someday having other similar sanctuaries scattered around the globe. If he had had any doubts to the possibility of such goals they were banished last night thanks to Druitt.

James still wasn't sure exactly what his one-time best friend's true intentions were, but he did glean several things after their conversation at dinner. The meal had been a bit strained at the beginning. Each man eyed the other suspiciously as they started to eat. They had ended up dining informally in the Library, of all places, seated at the dark study table with piles of books and papers pushed to the side.

Reaching the rooftop, James pushed through the heavy metal door and ignored the loud, screeching groan it called out. He ceased thinking about Druitt for a time to return to his search for clues. There would be no blood up here. That wasn't what he was looking for. In careful measure, he moved along the roof ledge until he found it - two sets of four sharp scratches about an eighth of an inch deep. From there, he glanced down and took in the various ledges and window sills from the floors below to the ground. Too far a distance between each of those for your average human. But if one were an abnormal with the ability to leap distances? Quite possible.

He leaned back, took in a deep breath, again expelling it in distaste of the foul London air, and nodded, most pleased with himself. He had a pretty good idea of who he was looking for now. James pulled out a pad of paper and pen, briskly wrote up a note, folded it over twice, and wrote a name and address on the outside.

Turning round, Watson hurried back down the stairs and out onto the street. The hour was approaching five am and he did not have to venture far before he was able to wave over one of the many street urchin that infested the city. The young boy was given one coin to deliver the note with the promise that if he returned promptly with the person named on the note that Watson would give him two more coins as additional payment. The ecstatic lad rushed off, eager to earn all the coins. It would be enough for two good meals for his beggared family.

After leaving the front door unlocked, he returned to the roof, extinguished the lantern he'd left by the ledge and waited. He stared out onto the city as the darkness of night faded away before the oncoming rising of the sun. Soon, the hard surfaces of the endless brick buildings and streets faded from his vision and his mind returned to the events of the night before.

The Library was Watson's favorite room in his house. The well aged wood paneled walls, floor to ceiling bookcases and the sounds of a crackling fire and the tick-tocking of the family grandfather clock lent an air of warmth and intimacy to the room. Once upon a time, James and John had spent many an hour in this very room discussing anything and everything into the wee hours of the night. Often they played rounds of chess or cards while Watson puffed away on his pipe and John indulged in a few glasses of fine liquor. It was a close and easy existence between the best friends.

Then The Five each injected themselves with the Source Blood and slowly everything changed. The once tight group began to pull apart, each seeking to discover the world anew and what it could offer. The once deep friendship between Watson and Druitt dissolved upon the discovery of John's madness and depraved violent acts. It had been several years since they had set eyes on one another.

And yet here they sat, in the same room as before, sharing a traditional English meal and prodding one another on as in their college days. To say they were not the same men as before was such a staggering understatement. James was 38 years old, a well known and successful detective, and partner with Helen in establishing their London Sanctuary. He barely had a gray hair on his head or face, which was something considering the things he had seen and done to this point. The John seated across from him, in contrast, was 162 years old, had not a follicle hair on his head or face to gray, and was famous throughout history for a whole other, twisted reason. They were a study in stark contrasts. And upstairs, at the end of the hall, slumbered deeply the one woman they both loved and could not imagine living without.

Never one to take the easy route, James had waited until Druitt had gotten a few bites of meat into him before bringing up the case he was working on. He needed to solve it quickly and Future Helen had made it known she was not going to give him a clear answer, despite the fact that she, or perhaps it was Adam, had already missed up the timeline with their presence.

John had turned an angry glare upon his companion. "Why are you bringing that up to me, of all things? Have you not yet solved the murders?" he asked incredulously.

James, equally snippy, had let him know he would have solved the case had the future interlopers' arrival not disrupt the timeline. The culprit was still roaming free. He stared pointedly at his dinner companion.

"Oh great, so we are back to it being my fault, again!" John snarled. "Thousands of people wasting about in this polluted, labyrinth of a city and you always come back to me as the culprit. Is your imagination so narrow that you cannot come up with any other alternatives?" His temper was unraveling as he spoke on.

There was an interim of silence as Watson stiffened and his eyes widened in alarm. His enlarged pupils stared frozen on John's left hand and, in turn, James' hand holding his knife tightened its grip.

John's temper dissolved when he realized that his friend's rapt attention was on the knife in Druitt's left hand which was pointed in James's direction. John had a utensil in each hand as he was eating and had not realize he had been jabbing the steak knife in Watson's direction until this moment. He released a deep, unhappy sigh and tilted the knife back down onto his plate. "If I was going to do you any harm I would have already done so," he informed the leery man across from him. When his proclamation was met with stony silence, John shook his head. "My temper is under control and the demon that tormented me before is no longer here. You are safe, old boy. Or should I say, young man," he tried to assure his old friend.

Though still weary, James relaxed a tiny bit and reached for his glass of wine. "And how is that? Have you found a miracle cure for your madness? Has your mind healed itself somehow? Or have the angels descended from the heavens and declared you well?" The skeptical look on his face said exactly what he thought about Druitt's claim.

"Hmm, it was more like an exorcism of sorts," John offered as he picked up his utensils and resumed eating.

"A what?" James returned, lowering his glass in confusion. "You mean like a ceremony with priests and holy water?"

Twirling his fork in the air, John tried to explain. "Let us just say that your current culprit and I shared a similar problem. Our actions were thrust upon us by external forces we could not control. We are more than the average individual. And we both were in dire need of a special kind of help to stop the violence. Whereas my cure would be self inflected, your culprit does not require a cure so much as a safe haven."

John cut up another large chunk of meat and forked it into his mouth. He kept his eyes on Watson's face, watching the unspoken thoughts flitter across the sleuth's countenance as he tried to work out the clues Druitt had just given him. He swallowed and gave a huge sigh at James's still apparent confusion.

Watson, annoyed at Druitt's air of superiority, sniffed loudly and stabbed at his meat viciously with the knife and fork. "Instead of playing childish games, why not just tell me the truth? You, like Helen, obviously know who the killer is," he demanded. "If you're really as cured as you claim you would want to stop any more murders from occurring."

John shook his head in equal annoyance. "I cannot out right tell you who the killer is because," he jabbed the knife upward to the ceiling, "_She Who Must Be Obeyed_ will have my hide. As I am sure you have noticed, she's adamant about not interfering with the timeline any more that absolutely necessary."

Cocking his head to the side, James gave him a knowing look. "Yes, but you have no such qualms about the timeline, have you?" He narrowed his eyes slightly as he awaited Druitt's reply.


	14. Dining with the Ripper

Author's note: Most of the dialogue lines between James and Helen's rooftop scene are taken from the Tempest episode. That dialogue, along with the characters, belong to the show's writers. The rest of the stuff here is mine.

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 14: Dining with the Ripper

Cocking his head to the side, James gave him a knowing look. "Yes, but you have no such qualms about the timeline, have you?" He narrowed his eyes slightly as he awaited Druitt's reply.

"Humph," accompanied by a shrug with his only reply. He continued to eat and watch the man across from him.

"I would imagine you would much like to change your future," Watson threw out, deciding to tackle the conversation from a different angle.

Nodding in acknowledgment, John confessed that he would indeed prefer to change his timeline. "That's part of the reason I'm here now. What she told you about the situation with Adam?"

"Just a bare scratch on the surface. I was told specifically, and I quote, 'No questions about the future, near or distant,'" James repeated, doing so in a higher pitched, uppity tone.

John laughed softly at his imitation of haughty Helen. She could be rather superior when she felt the person she was addressing was of lesser intelligence or was behaving in a manner with which she disagreed. Helen did so enjoy being in the right. Lowering both of his hands onto the table to lay down the silverware, he let out a deep breath then proceeded to tell James about his two deals with the devil.

As he finished his tale, he finally dared look over at Watson, who sat back in his chair with a totally shocked look across his face. John had left out any details of his and Helen's argument in Hollow Earth. "I know, not the smartest move on my part. But at the time it seemed like a good idea."

"I can see why Helen would not be happy to see you right now," Watson intoned dryly.

John frowned and his shoulders drooped. "I know. I was an idiot." He picked up his silverware and resumed eating.

A few minutes of silence passed between them. James, starring off at the fire, softly queried, "So, it was the Source Blood that induced the insanity?" He thought about how soft spoken and gentle John had been before the injection and the violent man he had become afterwards.

"No," John answered back just as softly, "it was just the conduit through which I was imprisoned."

Turning back to Druitt, James looked at him with both eyebrows raised. That was a most odd answer. Yet he felt that it was a very important and telling one.

John did not elaborate. Though he desperately wanted to tell his former best friend the truth about the energy elemental, there was little James could have done with the truth in this era. And if Helen ever found out all that the two men had discussed together she might very well follow through with her threat to kill him permanently. Druitt figured he'd just blame Watson's brilliant deductive reasoning abilities if necessary.

He leaned back in his chair, resting his head against the hard wood and looked up at the ceiling. "I should have killed the little weasel when I had the chance."

James reached forward and took a large swig of wine, emptying his glass. "You should have killed him the first time, never mind the second time." He held up the bottle and tipped it slightly towards John, who held his glass out as Watson refilled it.

"I honestly believed him to be dead. He was bleeding heavily and near drowned." He stared intently at Watson. "That first death was very important to us."

Sniffing his wine, Watson cautiously asked, "How so?"

"Adam's death, the first one, establishes the future for us all… The Five." At James's searching look, John shook his head. "No, I'm not going to tell you why. You will find out why in a few years time and your sanctuaries will benefit from it." Smirking, he pointed his glass at his old friend before adding, "You do not need to know everything, Snoopy Pants."

James groaned. "I take exception with that nickname. I am not snoopy. I just like to know everything… and I usually do," he replied back, wearing his own little smirk.

"Snoopy Pants," John repeated, then raised his eyebrows in amusement at the way James pursed his lips in distaste. "Don't take it so personally. I have called Tesla far worse names."

"And how is the old pompous windbag," James asked, drawing a chuckle from Druitt.

"Still an arrogant git who believes himself to be descended from the gods." He saw James register acknowledgement that Nikola, like Helen and John, was still alive in the far future. "He is a vampire, as he so likes to remind us all," John rolled his eyes. "Believe me, if he was easier to kill I'd have done it years ago. The old puffed up bat."

James chortled in laughter, leading John to do the same. Neither man had been overly fond of Tesla. They appreciated his intelligence and wit, but the Serbian's exaggerated self importance grated to no end.

"And what would Helen think of such an action?" James questioned in a teasing tone. "She's rather fond of him, as I recall."

John grinned. "Oh, she'd get her knickers in a royal twist and shoot me if I ever truly succeeded in killing Count Vlad."

"She is rather fond of shooting you, old boy," James observed and gave him a smug grin. "I can't imagine why."

"She's just as fond of shooting Tesla," he replied dryly. "My pointing out to her that she is overly fond of shooting people never goes over very well. She just replies that she's going to find a bigger gun." Both men burst out laughing at that. Helen did like her firearms a bit too much.

A knock on the door preceded the entry of the Langley with a tea tray. Both men got up and moved over to the wing chairs before the fire. Langley set the silver teapot, cups and saucers, creamer and plate of biscuits onto the small wood table between the chairs, then began clearing the plates and silverware on the main table. The only sound heard was the crackling of the fire and the muted rattle of spoons against the porcelain cups as each man fixed their drink to their liking. The manservant pulled the door closed behind him as he left the room.

Watson blew on his tea, watching as a curl of steam rose and faded into the air. After taking a test sip and almost scalding his tongue, he lowered the cup onto the saucer in his other hand and prodded John again. "Back to the subject at hand… the current killings?"

John rolled his eyes and smacked his palms down onto the arms of his chair. "Oh good God, man. I've practically spelled it out for you. You're known as one of the greatest, if not the greatest, detectives of all time. The legendary Sherlock Holmes. And you even can't solve this straight forward mystery at the beginning of your career? Really?" John ground out sarcastically.

"Greatest detective of all time," James repeated, a big, fat, smug smile blooming onto his handsome face. "Fascinating."

John groaned and laughed at the same time. "You would zero in on that part, Snoopy Pants."

Watson merely grinned back and tipped his head in satisfaction. So, history would denote him as a well regarded, famous detective. His hard work would not go unnoticed in the history books. He could tell from John's reaction that Druitt had not meant to tell him that part but rather his frustration had caused him to slip that juicy tidbit. He lifted his cup and took a sip, this time finding the temperature to his liking.

John gave a loud, put upon sigh. "The one thing you need to keep in mind is that the culprit needs your help. _Sanctuary_ is required," he stressed, giving Watson a long, hard look that needed no translation.

"Fascinating," James repeated and took a biscuit off the small plate by the silver teapot. He took a bite as his mind mulled everything over.

John dipped a biscuit lightly into his cup before taking a bite. "It's elementary, my dear Watson," he said and then snorted, unable to suppress his laughter.

Giving his friend a dirty look, James picked up a biscuit and lobbed it at Druitt's head, nailing him perfectly on the side of his forehead. John picked up the biscuit in his lap, swept the crumbs onto the floor and gave James a disgruntled look in return. "Childish."

The sleuth shrugged and ate another biscuit, a small smirk pulling at the right corner of his mouth. It was childish but it felt good. "So, what are your plans now that you are here, in the past? Are you planning to hijack the timeline and recoup your lost life?" The playfulness was suddenly gone from the room.

John lowered his cup onto its saucer on the side table and held out his hands in a hopeless gesture. "I'm not really sure. When Helen went through the time portal my only thought was to follow her to protect her from Adam. He had already assaulted her badly once."

James stiffened at that little tidbit that Helen had conveniently left out. That would explain one reason why she was so willing to kill their old classmate.

"And once I got here, all I was concerned about was finding her and stopping Worth." He looked around the room, still finding it a bit hard to reconcile the fact that he was 113 years back in the past. "I'm still trying to figure out where I go from here."

James believed his friend. The perplexed look on Druitt's face was genuine and James himself could not imagine what it would be like to go back in time and have to relive the past. Especially for John, who's past was rather heinous after taking the injection. "Try not to do anything rash," he asked of John, who refocused his attention onto his companion.

Druitt never got the chance to answer. Langley reentered the room after a quick knock. "Sir, there is someone here to see you."

James started, twisting in his seat to look questioningly at his manservant. No guest was expected. "Who?" Langley gave his employer the caller's card and Watson's brows shot up in surprise at reading the name. He glanced at John who nodded slightly, acknowledging that he would leave Watson to his visitor. Both stood as Langley left to retrieve the guest.

"Thank you for your hospitality," John said, half bowing to his host.

"Remember what I said," James instructed.

"You remember what I said," John smiled back. "Solve the case or it's the world's worst detective title for you," he teased before teleporting out of the room.

A loud chiming of bells from a distant chapel pulled Watson out of his recollections of last night's dinner. He smiled. Last night he had had dinner with _his_ John, the one that he had not seen for several years. Druitt had been quite lucid and quite sane. He really did seem cured of his derangement. For how long, though, Watson did not know. He wasn't sure Druitt did either.

The steady clipping of heels behind him attracted his attention. Turning around, he found the younger version of Helen stepping out onto the rooftop. She was wearing her favorite blue-silver cloak and she flashed him a slightly cross look.

"This better be good. I just climbed up six flights of stairs in new boots," she groused at him, lifting the hem of her dress slightly to show off her new shoes. She was rather fond of shoes he mused as she moved over to join him by the ledge.

He took a deep breath and looked down onto the site of the last murder. "I was thinking about what you said, and I think you're right. It isn't John doing these murders."

Surprised, Helen turned to him. "I'm listening."

Recalling Future Helen and John's hints to him, James laid out his idea. "Another creature, as violent and dangerous as him, with its own unique method of near-instant escape."

Helen was relieved to hear this. She had been terrified at John would be revealed as the killer after all. "As I've been saying, but as you keep pointing out, none of the other possibilities make any sense. No one can teleport like John." She held her breath, praying that James would be able to give provide a reasonable explanation that precluded John.

"What about incredible super strength? The ability to leap quickly to high ground," he suggested, pointed looking down and then around them.

Following his eyes, she immediately grasped his meaning. "Rooftops," she said and felt her heart lightened. It wasn't John after all. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks.

"Exactly," he confirmed and showed her the scratch marks on the ledge in front of them. The look of grateful relief upon her face wasn't lost on Watson. He chafed inwardly. She was still in love with their Druitt, the one still lost in his battle for his sanity and humanity. And while he too was relieved at the culprit being someone other than their friend, it still stung him a bit to be reminded that she was not yet ready to move on from her disastrous relationship with John. Until that happened Watson stood no chance with her romantically.

"Claw marks?"she guessed and smiled at him as he nodded. Helen reached over and squeezed his hand. "We may have the first resident for our sanctuary," she said in a chipper tone, which was totally incongruous given they were talking about a killer.

"_Sanctuary_ is required," Watson said, repeating Future John's words from the night before.

The cool wind prompted the duo to turn and head for the staircase. James put his arm around her to help steady her as she began to descend in her full skirts and she leaned into him to block out the wind.


	15. And Now What?

Author's note: One line from John is taken from the Into the Black episode. That dialogue, along with the characters, belongs to the show's writers. The rest of the stuff here is mine. No copyright infringement is intended.

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 15: And Now What?

Helen was truly, utterly bored. She had had her bath, which had been rudely interrupted by her brash ex, then returned to her room to start the long process of dressing and fixing her hair in order to be presentable. After that, she had nothing to do. She had already eaten the breakfast James had brought up to her before heading out to follow up on his lead. She had thought about going downstairs to peruse his library but did not want to risk the help seeing her.

Going to her sanctuary was a risk, what with her younger self working there now cataloging and storing the latest artifacts her father had sent. I mean, how does one tell one's younger self that they have leapt back in time and there are now two of you running around? Young Helen might get spooked and try to kill her older self. That'd leave scars requiring years of therapy.

So, instead, she spent an hour staring out the bedroom window replaying the events of the last two weeks and fretting about what she should have done, could have done, and didn't do. The shoulda, coulda, woulda game could torment even the most saintly of persons… which Helen was not.

What she wouldn't do for a laptop or iPhone right now she bemoaned as she lay across the bed staring up at the ceiling. She missed the instantaneous gratification of modern modes of communication. If this were modern times and she were stuck in a bedroom somewhere, such as a hotel, she would at least be able to surf the net and shop for shoes… or dresses… or a new sideboard to replace the one Will and Henry had destroyed the night they had all got infected with the parasite and tried to kill one another… or new shoes. She did rather love buying and wearing new shoes.

Helen blew a frustrated breath, causing a curl by her ear to tickle her. Imaginary shoe shopping wasn't working. She was still bored and still stuck in a small guest bedroom with nowhere to go but across the hall to the bathroom.

She glanced about the tidy room again. She kept expecting John to pop into one of the dark corner's of the room to continue their match of wits but he was nowhere in sight. That bothered her more than she cared to admit.

It surprised her, frankly, that he was leaving her alone. Perhaps he was afraid she had followed through with her threat and had located a firearm to use against him. That made her smirk. He should be afraid. She had used a gun on him before and would do it again if necessary. "Be afraid, be very afraid," she sent out the telepathic message, as if he could pick it up from far away.

John had cornered her in the bath to force her to engage with him again, thus "renewing their little dance" as he so fondly put it. After their brutal argument in Hollow Earth she determined that she would sever any and all ties with her former fiancé. He knew she was resolved to do it too. That was why he had been so confrontational in the bath and reminded her that "I, on the other hand, have been clear and forthcoming about my admiration from the start. That was one of the reasons you chose me."

He had put her on notice again that he wanted her and would not walk away despite her attempts to push him away. "Stupid, stupid man," she thought angrily. Challenging her to do something she did not want to do would only caused her to dig her heels into the sand harder.

Shaking her head, she said, "No, you will not get me back in your clutches again, John Druitt, not now not ever," to no one in particular. Her resolve faded away as another voice, a pesky little one in the back of her mind, remarked how handsome John had looked in the bathroom. He had been dressed immaculately in dark slacks, a crisp white shirt and a pinstriped vest. The tight fitting pants had elongated his already long, lean limbs. The white shirt clung to his sinewy arms in all the right places and she couldn't remember the last time she had seen him in a vest. He had looked oh so very handsome, even with his ridiculous grin as he leered at her in the tub. If he'd had some hair she might be able to picture him as _her_ John, the one who had given her his heart and pledged to build a life with her. One complete with a cottage by the sea and a handful of little children whose laughter would fill up the house with warmth and cheer.

She pounded her head back onto her pillow hard. "Stop it!" she hissed to herself. "You are not a silly little school girl. And that was not a romantic encounter. That was your deranged ex-betrothed stalking you to needle you as always." Really, where these fanciful notions were coming from was beyond her. She hadn't thought this way of John in well over a century. What had brought on this bit of nostalgia?

The thought of children brought about a hard clenching of her heart. On several occasion, often while lying in each other's arms after vigorous bouts of love making, they had shared their dreams of the future with one another. The hopes of little Johns and little Helens were mentioned much in the most loving of terms.

She had wanted at least two little Johns. Both would have their father's height, strength, gentleness and persuasive oratory skills. And his mesmerizing blue-gray eyes and soft, deep voice. Helen loved many things about her John, but most especially his voice. The way he said her name could still send chills down her spine in a way that caused her toes to curl and her mind to mentally sigh. She had imagined their family portraits with her in her best dress and surrounded by tall, handsome Druitt men.

John had laughed at that and plied her face with affectionate kisses. Once he had become aware of her returning affections for him, he did not seem able to stop constantly touching her in one way or another. Or more likely he chose not to refrain from touching her after she had admitted to him that she wanted the attention of none other than him.

He had become very possessive of her once he was aware she had chosen him and, if she were truly honest with herself, his fervent ardor was one of the reason she had selected him over any of the others. She liked that he was aggressive in his pursuit of her and he appreciated her return in kind. And there had been plenty of others suitors, even so far back as when she was a young teen. Her godfather, Louis Pasteur, had suggested to her father that his only son, Baptiste, would be a suitable match for the young girl.

But Helen had other ideas. She wanted to become a doctor, not an ordinary housewife and so had politely but definitively rejected the pairing when her father had mentioned in passing that the young man might one day make her a good husband. Gregory did not bring up the topic again, knowing that his daughter was set on the daunting task of getting the Oxford education thus far denied to women. Louis continued to broach the subject over the years, finally letting go of the notion when Helen had reached her 21st birthday and was still determined to continue her education. He was fond of his godchild but had decided she was too stubborn and perchance a bit peculiar for her to be an acceptable match for his only male heir. Gregory cared neither here nor there whom Helen married as long as she was happy and allowed to do as she pleased. He had raised his only child to be as independent as possible in such a restrictive time period.

Helen groaned aloud and threw her hands back against the bedspread. She was getting lost in thoughts of the past and that was not good. The past was in the past and one had to let it go. Only problem was that she actually was lost in the past… both physically and emotionally. Why, oh why did Adam have to choose this time period to return to? It was because he wanted to save his only child of course.

Only child. That brought her back to the topic of children with Druitt and her heart constricted again in pain. He had wanted daughters. Oh, he had admitted to wanting the one gratuitous male heir to carry on the family name, but it was little Helens that he wanted running underfoot in their household. Little mini-Helens with their mother's golden curls, indefinable deep blue eyes, ever present grace, and cherubic giggles.

For those touching comments, Helen had rained such kisses upon her lover that he often was unable to continue with his train of thoughts. As with their courtship, their passion for one another had been aggressive and mutual. It was no wonder that Helen had gotten pregnant from their avid coupling. Neither had concerned themselves with the possibility of pregnancy because they had been so sure they would marry. A child born "prematurely" before the end of nine months was not unheard of. As long as the parents had married before the child's birth the sins of premarital sex could be swept silently under the rug.

Helen felt a wave of sadness hit her. Ashley had been exactly what John had dreamed their daughter would be. She had golden locks, though straight like her father's, eyes brighter blue than either of her parents, and had the most infectious little giggles when she was highly amused or being mischievous. She could be graceful when she chose to be, despite her preferences at being a tomboy and running around in black leather on the back of a motorcycle. Helen closed her eyes, feeling the early signs of tugging at the corner of her eyes that preceded the flow of tears.

She put the palms of her hands to her eyes and ordered herself to stop thinking about Ashley. It had been four years since her death and the pain was still too close to the surface. Her mind, however, refused to cooperate and she continued on her sorrowful trip down memory lane.

The decision to bring the baby to term had been such a difficult one. She had waited over a century to do it and agonized throughout the pregnancy on whether she had made the right decision. All concerns went out the window the moment she held her little bundle of joy in her arms. Helen had never understand the old say about one's heart swelling full from love until she looked down upon the little miracle in her arms and it opened its eyes for her and yawned sleepily. Nothing she had experienced in her life rivaled that moment.

Palms still covering her eyes, she pushed out her bottom lip and sighed. God, she was depressed. Her daughter had been the brightest star in Helen's lonely existence. The child had brought to Helen's sanctuary a warmth and happiness it had only seen one other time – when young Henry came to live there. Together, the two energetic children had gotten into one mischievous adventure after another, and life was never dull nor unhappy with those two around.

Helen recalled John's confession concerning why he had aided Worth in exchange for the opportunity to rewrite the past. "You and I could have been together. Raised children," he had told her mournfully. He had so desperately wanted their happy ending, the one that came with a family.

She wondered for the first time what it would have been like had Druitt succeeded. Would Ashley still have been born to them? Or would she never have existed at all. That thought wounded her. No, Ashley had to be. Helen could not imagine her beautiful angel not coming into the world.

Over the years she had had many dreams and daydreams about them being a family, though she never would admit that to anyone else. Ashley had been cheated out of the loving, gentle father Druitt should have been. Had the sinister energy elemental not possessed John, he would have proved to be the best of husband and father. She knew that deep down in her bones.

"Speaking of which, where the hell is he?" she wondered. Now that she had gotten over her anger at his crashing her bath, Helen had quite a few questions for him. The first and foremost being which John was he now. In all of her conversations with him since his arrival back in time he had been quite lucid and sane. Very annoying, but sane all the same. His beautiful blue eyes were bright and unclouded. He looked at her the way _her_ John had looked at her. His eyes held none of the Ripper's menace.

The last view she had of him back in their timeline had been of him being electrocuted by the coils as he held the time portal open for her to chase after Worth. Had the intense power surges from the coils been enough to rid his body of the elemental? Was John truly free after over a century's torment? So many questions bubbled forth in her mind. There would be no answers until the man in question showed up again.

"Where is he," she hissed to herself. She wanted him here now. Besides wanting answers, John was the only one who could understand what she was enduring now and share the frustration with her. He alone could understand her pain, her loneliness, her longing for their lost child. She needed him so much right now. Together, they were trapped in the past, one that included Ashley still existing, albeit as a frozen egg. Her child was here, for the taking. All she had to do was…

"Oh, crap!" she thought. "Just kill me know!" she wailed aloud and, grabbing a nearby pillow, covered her face with it. What the hell was wrong with her? She had gone through all the trouble of stopping Adam from altering the timeline to save his only child and here she was contemplating doing the same for hers. And dreaming of reuniting with her crazy ex to boot. Clearly, she was losing her mind... and she had not been here a week yet!

"Alright," replied a smooth male voice. "How would you like it done? Smothering with a pillow? Some nice arsenic in your tea? A strong shove down the flight of stairs? Or, I know, how about by nice duel of firearms at twenty paces?


	16. A Long Vacation

Author's note: The majority of the dialogue lines between James and Helen's rooftop scene are taken from the Tempest episode. That dialogue, along with the characters, belongs to the show's writers. The rest of the stuff here is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I am just trying to weave in what is canon with the ongoing storyline.

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 16: A Long Vacation

"Alright," replied a smooth male voice. "How would you like it done? Smothering with a pillow? Some nice arsenic in your tea? A strong shove down the flight of stairs? Or, I know, how about by nice duel of firearms at twenty paces?"

Helen bolted upright, yanking the pillow off her face as she went. "James!" she exclaimed. "How long have you been standing there?" She quickly tried to remember what all she had blurted out aloud. Damn, she sure hoped he hadn't heard much of her thoughts nor the convoluted twists they were taking.

"Long enough for you to suggest killing yourself. We will have to make sure your gun is unloaded naturally if we go ahead with the duel idea. You're far too happy to shoot at someone with a firearm to generally miss and I have no intentions of dying anytime soon," Watson teased, pleased to see the apples of her cheeks turn bright pink in embarrassment. "No? Well, just as well. I've never killed a lady before. Might ruin my reputation as the greatest detective of all time," he speculated as he tapped his chin.

"Greatest detective of all time," Helen gasped and then narrowed her eyes. "What did John say to you? He told you about Sherlock Holmes, didn't he?"

Watson threw open his arms in amusement. "I am Sherlock Holmes! Why would Druitt need to tell me about me? I am the best expert on myself, dear madam," He waggled an eyebrow at her invitingly, causing her to laugh.

"Come," he instructed, holding out his hand to her. "Care to take a stroll on the roof and watch the sun come up?"

She exhaled a relieved breath, obviously she had not revealed too much of her ludicrous thoughts to him. Giving him a grateful smile, she allowed him to pull her up off the bed. "I would love to. I am going stir crazy locked up in this room."

He laughed. "I can imagine." Silently they walked single file up the wooden staircase to the rooftop. There, he held out the crook of his arm and she easily slid her arm through so that they could walk side by side towards the roof's edge.

"I have solved the murders, in case you were wondering," he told her as they watched the ball of fire reach mid-way into the sky.

She perked up. "Have you? That's good news indeed."

Watson nodded. "Spring -heeled Jack, the Sanctuary's newest resident." Once he had verified who he was looking for, Watson had been able to locate the abnormal within the hour. The locations of the murders connected like a spider web and defined a very specific hunting ground. The abnormal had not wanted to go with them but Helen, the younger version, had managed to persuade the creature. She looked a bit confused when the abnormal mentioned their "earlier" conversation but fortunately James had been able to interrupt and get them back on track. In any case, the mystery was solved and there would be no more murders by their new inhabitant.

"I wish I could've told you earlier," Helen apologetically said. She hoped that her conversation with the abnormal had convinced him to readily, and peacefully, accept haven in the London sanctuary.

James patted her hand. "All that matters is that the streets of London are safe again." He looked out onto the city, his city, and thought pompously, the great Sherlock Holmes solves another one.

Turning to him, Helen agreed, somewhat shyly. "As they should be. I never meant to burden you, James. All this knowledge you have to keep secret." She felt incredibly guilty for dragging him into this mess. His peaceful existence, well relatively peaceful existence, had been disrupted by the whole Worth mayhem.

Sensing her discomfort, James tried to reassure her. "Oh, I love it, you know that. What, all the deductive reasoning I'll be able to do with the little tidbits you've left me? It's going to keep me occupied for decades, if I have that long." Not to mention all the juicy tidbits Druitt had dropped the night before. The last six days had been the most interesting adventure Watson had had since The Five had disbanded. Too bad he couldn't have salvaged that communication device. Just think of what he could have gleaned from that fascinating toy. Or, better yet, the gun with its amazing release mechanism. He really regretted not hiding that one from her.

"In my future you do, many of them," Helen rushed to assure him, misreading his faraway look. She couldn't tell him when and how he would die but she certainly didn't want him to worry about his death in the near future either.

He held up a hand to stop any further discussion. "No, I don't want to know. Far too much information."

She understood. The knowledge of one's death could only cause anxiety for the person. Helen stiffened her spine and trudged forward to the next tricky part. "Now that we've cleaned up all evidence of Adam, and the technology he brought with him, I suppose there's only one thing left undone." This part she wasn't too keen on dealing with.

"What to do about you," he guessed. And Druitt, though she did not mention him. James wondered what had taken place between the duo since her recovery but felt it better not to ask. Their relationship had been volatile ever since the Ripper case and the last thing he wanted to know was if they were romantically involved again.

"I can't be here, James. We both know it. Everything I touch, everyone I meet..." she trailed off. The whole Butterfly Effect. Her presence could cause any number of unintended chain reactions. And in John's case, any number of outright chaos.

"Could ruin my future," he finished. Jokingly, he added, "You'd best kill yourself."

Unhappily, she conceded. "I'm glad we both agree." The thought of killing herself was really unfathomable. She had been given the gift of longevity. To have to end her life now, because of Adam's actions, was really absurd. If she were ever to kill herself it would have been over the loss of the two persons she loved most in the world – Ashley and John.

Shocked, Watson turned to her and lightly reprimanded. "Helen, suicide? You're so melodramatic." Women, he thought. Always choosing the most theatrical of options when a much more simple one was at hand.

"Do you have a better idea? I'm trapped here, and I've no way home," she stated hopelessly. It was a real pity that John's teleporting abilities did not extend to time travel. Then again, maybe not. He would have been able to hound her in the past and present as much as he liked for as long as he liked.

Watson gave her another reassuring pat on the arm. "You can always go home. It just might take a little while. It's one of the benefits of your incredibly slow aging." Using his smooth, sleuth voice, he encouraged, "Disappear. Go somewhere... remote, with limited contact with the rest of world. Spend the time thinking about... All the things you've lived through." He would have liked to know what those things were. Well, maybe some of them. From her harried persona upon arrival and her moments of temperament James deduced she had lived through some really rough times in the future. How anything could have been worse than finding out Druitt was the Ripper Watson could not imagine even in his wildest dreams.

Helen took a deep breath and pondered his suggestion. "113 years of seclusion?" That didn't sound as bad as offing one's self but then it had only been one day since her recovery and already she was bored. 113 years of seclusion and boredom sounded about as much fun as a root canal. She wondered what John would think of this idea? He was a hardened survivor. He would chose this option over killing himself any day. And frankly, so would she. Even if she was going to be uber bored. She was a survivor, like John.

James was relieved she was taking his suggestion. There was no way he was going to allow her to kill herself. She was the only woman he loved after all. He nudged her on. "Then you'll join your timeline just after you've left it. Unless, of course, you're determined to do yourself in." If that was the case, he was prepared to detain her until he could talk some sense into that pretty little head of hers.

The idea of suicide had been discarded. She would move forward as always, even if it meant hiding out for over a century. As a consolation, she would eventually get to enjoy the internet and online shoe shopping again in, oh, about 90 years or so. "A vacation?" she suggested more hopefully than before.

Watson, giving her a sideways glance, said gently, "From what I gather, you've... rather earned one." His heart ached for her as she curled into him and laid her head on his shoulder. He could feel her vulnerability and sadness.

Young Helen was far more reserved and always tried to keep that old Stiff British Upper Lip façade going. Future Helen, by contrast, seemed more fragile, at times unable to keep her emotions under the surface. He thought of Druitt's comment about Adam's assault on her and her fervent need to stop their old classmate. She had been living purely on adrenaline since her arrival. She had only one goal and the frantic need to accomplish it. Now that the threat was gone, she seemed at a loss as to what to do. Just as John had been the night before.

Somehow, the two would have to pull themselves together and go forward. And Watson would be there for them if they needed him. They were his dearest and oldest – pun intended – friends. He heard Helen morosely sigh and his arm went about her waist to pull her closer to him. He gave her a tight, reassuring squeeze. "Everything will work out fine," he said. "Have faith. You have lived 113 years once. You can do it again."

"You're sure about that?" she responded. She knew she had the ability to do it but did she have the will? That she wasn't so sure about. To have to relive all these years, especially the more horrible moments in her life, was incredibly daunting.

He gave her another squeeze and kissed the side of her head. "I am sure about you. Trust me."

"I do," she murmured softly and this time she could not stop the tears that began to fall.

He felt the tears as they dropped onto his hand and he gathered the woman he loved into his arms, hugging her tight to him. "It will be alright, darling."

She nodded and did not pull away. The tears continued to flow quietly and her hands clutched at the sides of his coat. He was her safe haven right now and she took comfort in his warmth. She would be alright. She just needed a little time to adjust. And if there was one thing she had on her hands, it was time.

They stood that way for some time. The sun was high in the sky and eventually their clothing became a little uncomfortable due to the heat. Helen still had her face turned into his neck and shoulder. Her fair coloring did not like the sharp sun.

James became aware of the prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck, as if he were being watched. He turned his head slowly, so as not to disturb Helen, and glanced over his right shoulder. There was nothing there. His brows creasing, he turned back forward. It must have been his imagination.

Had he turned a little faster, he might have caught the fading red light that signaled Druitt's departure.


	17. Moving Forward

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 17: Moving Forward

With a bright red flash, Druitt arrived in the abandoned flat. He was in a foul mood after witnessing James and Helen locked in each other's arms on the rooftop. Rather than announce his presence, he quietly left in order to get his temper under control. Though he was no longer possessed by the energy elemental, or "Jack" as everyone called it, John still had a wicked temper. The only people who could thus far trigger the worst of it were members of The Five, particularly when it involved Helen.

It was only logical that Helen leaned on James, especially right here, in this era. Watson had been her rock for over a century. He had been her best friend, her partner in building the Sanctuary Network, and, for a time, her lover. She trusted him, probably above everyone else in her life. This knowledge stung Druitt, though he understood it. If James hadn't been his best friend John would have given in to his desire to drop Watson off the tallest, most isolated structure he could find right now.

"If you drop one know it all, Snoopy Pants off the tallest peak of the Grand Canyon, would anyone hear him scream all the way down," John mused aloud and smiled. Yes, he was being childish but no one was being harmed. John had no intention of hurting anyone unless they got in his way. Thus far, James had only been a friend to him. John would not return the favor by harming him… unless James seduced _his_ Helen and/or turned her against him. Then James was a dead man.

Lazily, John moved around the room, cursorily inspecting everything. James had done a good job of clearing any signs of Adam's presence, and that of the child's, from the flat. No future technology was lying around to be found by outsiders such as the police.

After their dinner in the library, John had secretly returned to the flat and thoroughly inspected the place himself. Pulling on his leather gloves, Druitt went through every cabinet, drawer, box and container he came across. He ended up with quite a nice haul. Bless Adam's little black heart. He was providing Druitt with the means to regain his family. John smiled at the irony. Once again, Worth's death was providing members of The Five with their future… except this time it would only be two of those members that would profit.

Having anticipates Watson's move, John had deliberately left behind some items for the sleuth to find. Had he left nothing behind Watson would have gotten suspicious and immediately suspected John of pilfering some items, even if the detective had no idea what the items could be.

John gave the main room one more glance before teleporting away. He arrived in a rectangular room with thick, lightly toned stone walls that were lime washed a soft cream. Scattered about on the white washed wood floor were a few cotton woven rugs that lent warmth to the space. Overhead, exposed wooden beams created a ribcage effect. A massive fireplace was center in the room, the most economical location to best heat the large space.

John went through the wooden doorway left of the fireplace which lead to a comfortable bedroom with another fireplace backed up to the one in the living room. The room was simply decorated in soft, muted colors.

John carefully pulled off his tailored jacket and hung it up the small cupboard to the left of the bedroom. He eased off his new shoes and left them at the bottom of the cupboard before closing it and crossing the room in long strides. Since ridding himself of the elemental he found himself be even more concerned with his appearance and cleanliness as he had once been when he was younger. He once again cared about the overall impression he gave off. And that certainly seemed to pay off with Helen. He had not missed her reaction to his new look when he visited her in the bath. The way she had looked him from head to foot was most appreciative. He smiled to himself. It had been a long time since she had given him the once over and she had obviously liked what she saw.

He returned to the living room and, reaching the other side of the room, pulled the curtains open to let in heat of the sun. It was mid-August and there was no central heating/cooling unit. Thank goodness for all the stone, which helped insulate the space well. He paused in the center window to look out onto the ocean view below. The white crested waves crashing against the cliffs below were a beautiful sight.

Judging by the abandoned air of the place and the mismatched antique furniture it was safe to say anyone rarely came up to this place. There was also the added advantage of the ghost. This little bungalow was strongly rumored to be haunted, something that Druitt had encouraged over the years. For he, in his normal timeline, would occupy this space as his home for several decades off and on. This was one of the safe houses that he would find listed in the safe deposit box Adam had left him before Worth's drowning following Helen's shooting him off the cliff.

Of course, it should have been several more years before he learned of this place but this was another advantage. As his younger self did not yet know of the place, Druitt would not have to worry about running into his double. And that was very important. He had rid himself of the energy elemental and the last thing he wanted was to meet up with it again and have it jump bodies. John was careful to side step any possible run ins with "Jack."

Turning around, John gave the room another thorough inspection. Helen would love this place, he thought. He would need to pick up a few more things here and there to liven up the space. He wanted it to be perfect for his love. Druitt glanced back to the window to look out onto the water again. Over a century ago he had promised Helen a little cottage by the sea. Soon enough, she would finally share it with him, John promised himself.

Scattered behind him on a wooden dining table were the items he had taken from Worth's flat. The continuum device lay in the center, its green-blue liquid shimmering in the thick glass shell.

Meanwhile, back in London, Helen stood at the window of her bedroom in Watson's house, wondering where John was. Something was wrong, she knew it. John wouldn't stay away from her this long. She was pretty sure that he was cleared of the energy elemental but she wanted to know for sure and she needed him here to do that. Behind her, on the bed, lay a packed travel bag with spare clothing, forged papers, money and a gun. All provided for her by James.

Following her conversation with James, Helen had agreed to go into seclusion for the next 113 years. He was arranging her departure, which would happen in the next hour. "Where are you, John!" she whispered hopelessly. If he didn't arrive before she left London it could well be another 113 years before they saw one another again.


	18. Starting Over

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 18: Starting Over

It had been two very long weeks of traveling and quite frankly she was done with it. Where was a good, fast automobile or jet when you needed it she had thought many a time on this journey. James had done his best to ensure that the trip was as comfortable and as safe as possible, but he could do nothing about the cloud of loneliness that hung over her like a dark specter.

She had been fine on the train ride from London to the shore. It was once the ship had reached mid-seas that she had broken down in her private room, throwing herself down onto the narrow little bed and sobbing her eyes out. She was away from anyone she loved, away from her beloved Sanctuary home, and the only person who she could share much time with without causing major deviations to the timeline was nowhere to be found.

She didn't understand why he had abandoned her. Perhaps he wasn't truly free from the energy elemental and the violent creature had taken control again. That horrible thought only made her cry even more. And then she thought about not seeing James again and cried even more. Her life really sucked.

By the time the ship had reached Nantes, France, Helen Magnus was in control of her emotions again. Mostly. This is a new adventure she kept insisting to herself. She would discover new things. Have all the time in the world to read and do other things there never seemed to be time available to do. And she would be optimistic, even if it killed her. Which it might.

The rail ride to Bordeaux took a few more days. Finally she arrived at the place she would spend at least the next ten years. She stepped off the train and onto the platform, holding her only piece of baggage. James had arranged for a representative to meet her and the young man, a boy really, helped her into a carriage for the ride out of town. He had been surprised that she had no other luggage but otherwise kept the pleasantries to a minimum. By the quality of her blue gown, the lady was of an affluent class and not someone young Guy generally mixed with.

His employer, Monsieur Fournier, was awaiting their arrival at the cottage. The old windbag was in quite a good mood. The purchase of the cottage had been fast and unexpected. The realtor had made sure the cottage was cleaned and was rubbing his hands in anticipation of turning over the key. This was the easiest sale he had ever done and he was curious to see its new owner.

Helen's first impression of the cottage was favorable. It was small, with whitewashed stone walls, a thatched roof and colorful teal painted shutters and front door. Gravel crunched under her boots as she alighted from the carriage and walked up to the house. It was the end of August and rather warm, especially in her blue gown with all its layers. There was a bit of a neglected air around the house but she could do something about that.

Monsieur Fournier greeted her as she entered and it was apparent he was surprised by her young appearance. "Welcome, madam, to chez le petit fleur. I am Monsieur Fournier," his smile becoming more genuine as he took her hand and bowed over it. "I hope your journey has been well."

Helen gave a polite smile as she introduced herself. "Yes, thank you. I am Helen Heatherington." She gave a slight nod and waited for the man to release her hand. He was holding onto it longer than socially acceptable. "Perhaps a tour of the house?" she suggested when he made no move to let go. He was too busy staring at her with a goofy grin, which caused his moustache to appear somewhat lopsided.

"A tour of the home would be excellent," a deep voice said from behind them.

Helen yanked her hand free as she whirled around, her skirt making a soft whooshing noise during the spin. "John!" she gasped, her hand going up to her chest in surprise.

He was standing in the doorway, holding her solitary piece of luggage. Neither said anything as they stared at one another.

She took in his dark slacks, deep blue shirt with a lighter blue cravat, and a matching dark jacket. The thing that most stood out was the light stubble of a new beard and dark hair on his head, both of which made his grey-blue eyes stand out even more. She smiled. As far she knew, John had not had hair since the 1940s.

He smiled back at her, as aware of her appreciation of his appearance as his of hers. She was wearing a very flattering deep blue gown with soft, thin lace folds around her neck and curved bust line. Her hair was arranged in curls around her head with a few curls loose to frame her face. Delicate gold and pearl earrings dangled from her earlobes while a thin gold chain with a delicate gold cross rested right above her buxom chest. All exterior traces of their futuristic selves were gone. Both had blended into the current time frame.

"Madam Heatherington," Monsieur Fournier interrupted, "I was under the impression that you were traveling alone."

Helen turned back to the Frenchman. "I was." She felt John come up behind her to stare at the other man, whom he was putting on notice, before stepping to her side.

Noticing the man's blatant glance at her finger for a ring before repeating the same with John's hand, she said demurely, "I am a widow," and tried to look a little distraught at the loss of an imaginary spouse.

The man nodded. "And your gentleman friend. He is your… brother?" He didn't think they looked related but they were dressed in matching colors and it would be such a pity for the young lady to taken.

John snorted, "Hardly," giving Helen a smirk.

She returned his smirk with "Mr. Druitt here is my… solicitor." He gave a soft laugh at her description.

"Ah," the other man said, still scrutinizing the pair. Judging by the closeness of the man next to the woman he felt that the tall man was more than just a business associate.

"The tour?" Helen reminded with a small smile. John's appearance seemed to bother the Frenchman, who quite clearly wore a wedding band on his hand. She had had many lovers in the past but none were ever married or otherwise taken. Monsieur Fournier was hardly going to be the first.

A bit more stiff than before, the slightly put off realtor conducted them about the home. To Helen's relief, the little cottage proved to be much nicer on the inside. It was a rather strange having John following behind her as she learned the nuances of her new home. Over a century ago, they had talked about the type of home they wanted to share together as man and wife – they would have stayed in the Magnus home, for her father was off traveling a lot as it was, and would have gotten a little cottage by the sea for a summer home . With him trailing lazily behind her, his hands behind his back, it felt like they were touring a home that they would share together. It rather unsettled her. The realtor seemed to feel the same as every once in a while his gaze would travel over to take in John's reaction.

When they reached the sleeping quarters, John placed her bag on the bed and remarked, "Cozy. I like it," to her in a suggestive way. By the thin line of the realtor's mouth at that comment, it dawned on her that Monsieur Fournier had drawn the conclusion that she was Druitt's mistress and that it was John who had actually purchased the cottage for her. The practice of providing for mistresses had long been around in France, as well as other parts of Europe, so that wasn't the problem for the realtor. It was that he believed her to be unavailable that had set the roly-poly man to look upon them more disfavorably. John seemed to pick up on this because he grin got wider as the tour had gone on, as did his comments about the home and how perfect it was for Helen's "needs."

Unable to do anything about it without causing a scene, Helen ignored her ex and went in to inspect the bathroom. Like the rest of the house, it was bright and had a window that overlooked the back garden and woods beyond. Looking at the utilitarian shower in the bath Helen knew she would miss the steam shower of her Sanctuary home.

"It would be tight, but I bet two could fit into the shower," a deep, sexy voice whispered in her ear, causing Helen to stiffen.

"Not happening," she hissed, then closed her eyes briefly as she smelled his soft musky scent.

"Heard that before," he drawled, the stubble of his low growing beard tickling her ear, which caused Helen to let out a giggle before she could clamp her lips closed. He pulled away and returned to the bedroom before she could properly respond.

"Grrrr," she seethed quietly, then pulled herself together and reviewed what she had seen. James had done a great job of finding this place for her. All the rooms were furnished and cleaned. Fresh linens covered the bed and other necessary household items were provided.

Feeling better, she rejoined the men, who were waiting for her out on the terrace just outside the kitchen. John was opening a bottle of wine and nearby sat a plate of cheese, French breads, and fruit.

The unhappy Frenchman was watching John's progress. "Madam Heatherington," Monsieur Fournier said as she walked out, "I hope that you are happy with the home?"

She smiled. "It will do quite nicely. I appreciate all the work your office did to prepare the home for my arrival, Monsieur Fournier. You have attended to every detail."

The realtor brightened at her compliment and rubbed his hands together. "It is my pleasure, madam. Shall we toast to the new home? I have brought you only the best local wine and food," he indicated, making sure that she knew he was responsible for the spread and not Druitt, who was playing proprietor.

Helen looked around as John poured the maroon liquid into the glasses. The small terrace, with its pergola, would be perfect for morning teas and evening meals. Climbing roses were scattered about the pergola, lending a strong perfume to the hot, late summer air. The gardens around the home had fallen idle and needed to be restored.

Taking the glass John offered, Helen remarked, "This place will be amazing once the gardens are put back into order." She could envision the gardens in full color and the straggly raised bed by the left of the terrace full of green herbs and vegetables.

"The cellar will come in handy for storing goods," the Frenchman pointed out.

"All in all, not a bad pad to crash for a while," Druitt pronounced, smiling at her as he raised his glass in a toast.

"Agreed," Helen replied in kind and took a sip of her wine.

"Forgive me for prying," Monsieur Fournier asked, "But would you not be more comfortable closer to town? It's a good half hour carriage ride from here and there would be more people about to visit with."

Helen smiled. "Actually, quiet and privacy are the very reason this home was selected." When the man glanced from her to John and back, she quickly added, "I am a painter, you see. This home will be perfect for my studio."

The man's waxed moustache twitched. "Ah, an artiste! Now I understand." Artists were often strange, he accepted, though he still suspected the couple wanted the private location for other, more carnal reasons.

Plucking one of the blush roses off the vine by his shoulder, John handed it to her. "It's been a while since I've seen any of your sketches."

"I've gotten better since then," she replied, accepting the rose with a slight nod of her head. "And they aren't sketches anymore. I'm rather fond of watercolors now."

The ex-lovers stared at one another for a long moment, causing the realtor to realize that he was a third wheel. The couple obviously wanted to be alone.

"Well," he sniffed, "I will leave you to your new home. If there is anything you need, please call upon me," he said to her, lifting her hand up to kiss it. Behind him, John rolled his eyes and drained his glass. Frenchmen were always a little too touchy-feely for his tastes.

Helen smiled at John's annoyance. After all he had put her through in the last century he was due a lot of payback from her. As soon as she was sure the realtor had left, Helen sat down at the little table and fixed herself a plate. John did the same and pour them both some more wine. For a few minutes they ate in silence, each waiting to see who would be the first to speak.

Deciding to be the one to break the ice, John threw out, "You're wondering where I've been."

"Among other things." She reached for some more of the perfectly ripe grapes.

He looked back towards her new kitchen. "Like you, I have been getting settled into a little, isolated cottage." He looked back at her as he reached for the bread and tore off another piece to go with his cheese. "James found you a lovely little place."

She smiled, staring upwards at the canopy of roses resting above on the pergola. "He always did have good taste." Helen did so love roses, especially pink and apricots colored ones.

"Indeed," John agreed in a tone that caused her to look at him sharply. They weren't talking about the house anymore she suspected.

Ignoring his implication, she went straight for the most important question on her mind. "Which John are you?"

One of his eyebrows rose as he gave her a calculating look. "Took you long enough to ask that question."

She frowned at him. "I would have asked earlier if you had not teleported away. You deliberately did that to annoy me," she accused.

Smirking, he responded. "Not everything I do is about you, my dear."

"It usually is," she snarked. It was a bit of a conceited comment to make but where Druitt was concerned she generally figured in prominently.

He finished off his cheese as he shrugged. "Eh, Perhaps."

"John," she began warningly, "you haven't answered my question."

He leaned back in his chair and stretched out his long legs so that they rested near her. "The last three weeks have been the most peaceful I can remember since we injected ourselves with the Source Blood." They stared intently at one another, gauging what the other was thinking. "I hear only my own thoughts and no other voice. I am… free," he concluded, a wondrous smile blossoming on his lips.

Helen's throat tightened with emotion. "The power surge from the electrical coils…"

He nodded, suddenly overcome with emotion. "It was enough." She saw him struggle to keep his cool façade intact and lose as a tear made its way down one cheek. "I am… free," he repeated so softly she could barely make it out.

This time it was her who teared up. "You are yourself again?" Helen concluded huskily and was surprised when he shook his head. "But you said…"

"I am free," he insisted in his deep, throaty voice. "But I will never be the same as before. Too much has happened." He looked away from her intense gaze and stared out at the late afternoon sun that was slowly setting. "There are too many scars." He sighed deeply. "I am not exactly sure who I am anymore. I just know who I am not."

Both pondered on that for a bit in silence, the only sound around them the occasional call of birds and the humming of crickets.

He sighed again and turned back to find her lightly fingering the rose he had given her. "I know we can never be what we were before," he began and she shook her head at him in warning, "but I was hoping we could start over. Maybe we could get to a place where we could perhaps one day be friends. The alternative is unacceptable to me."

She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. "I don't know, John. Our history is so…"

"Complicated," he finished for her.

"Yes." She opened her eyes to look at him sadly. He was finally back to the man she had loved with all her heart and, yet, he wasn't. They could never be what they once were. And what they could be in the future she didn't know at this time.

John bowed his head. He knew this part was going to be the most difficult part of their journey. Rebuilding their friendship and, more importantly, a level of trust, would take time. He would have to tread carefully and allow her to set the pace and boundaries. It would be hard to be patient but it was his cross to bear. He had destroyed their love and he would have to pay whatever price was necessary to win it back.

"I have a request of you," he cautiously asked.

She looked back at him with obvious concern. "What is it?"

"I would like to ask for your help in creating a prevention against invasions from any future energy elementals," he sincerely pleaded.

Helen's eyes widen. In her gratefulness for the destruction of "Jack," she hadn't given any thought to the possibility that another possession could occur. "Like a vaccination or serum?" she suggested, her mind already working away at how it could be done.

"Do you think it's possible?" he asked hopefully. He sure hoped it was. He would sooner kill himself than go through that nightmare again.

She nodded. Yes, now that she fully understood why John had become the monster he had, she felt sure she could create a preventive to stop it from ever happening again. "I'll need a few things," she said.

"Anything you need I will get," he promised.

"Most importantly, you need to stay away from your younger self," she ordered. "Jack might try to jump bodies if he senses you or your younger self might try to kill you in a fit of insanity."

"I know. I've made sure to stay out of their way and I've been limiting my teleporting."

"Limiting it would be good," she agreed.

"I know," he confessed, "but I cannot stop it altogether any more than you can easily stop your longevity. It's part of my being."

"But you'll be very careful?"

"I will. When can we start?"

"Tomorrow." She gave him a tired smile. "Tonight I need to rest. The travel has caught up with me and I'm tuckered out."

"Tomorrow then," he said, relief glowing on his face. She was willing to help him. That alone meant that she still cared for him and that was all he needed for encouragement. "Do you need anything before I depart?" he asked, standing up and arching his back in a long stretch.

She watched his muscles rippling underneath his shirt and knew she was in trouble. "No, thank you."

He reached for his discarded jacket and cravat, and gave her a respectful bow. "Until tomorrow then," he said softly before teleporting away.

"I am so in trouble," she whined to herself as she poured the remaining wine into her glass and swallowed it all down in one gulp. She was going to play with fire again and she just knew she was going to get burnt.


	19. Courting Dr Magnus Part 1

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 19: Courting Dr. Magnus Part 1

The next day John timed his return shortly after eleven in order to allow Helen time to sleep in if she wished. She had looked rather tired when he departed yesterday. Traditional modes of travel could be exhausting and he was most grateful for his teleporting. Of all The Five's gifts, John believed his to be the best overall. Helen's was probably the most desirable in the long run though, and he was eternally in her debt for sharing her longevity with him, even if that was not her intention at the time.

He was hoping that the proximity to the lunch hour would induce her to invite him to share another meal with her. People tended to bond over meals and he intended to pursue all opportunities he could to reconnect with his beloved. With him, he brought a basket containing ripe berries, some cheese, carrots, fresh baked bread and cured ham.

"Good afternoon," he greeted as he teleported into her living room.

Surprised, she jumped and whirled around to face him. Despite expecting his arrival at some point today, she still found it quite disconcerting to have John pop in and out as he wished. She felt rather exposed not having the EM shield and other types of security features within her home that she had become accustomed to over the years. "John, hello," she greeted, a bit out of breath.

He frowned and looked around, then back at her. "What's going on?" The furniture had been moved about and her face looked a little flushed from her exertions.

"Oh, just a little redecorating," she explained before flopping into the nearest chair. "The flow was a bit off and I wanted to turn the furniture to face south so I could enjoy the sunshine during the day. I want to take advantage of any natural light possible, especially with winter coming soon."

"Ah," he nodded and moved to sit in the chair next to her. "May I be of any help?" he offered, laying the basket on the table in front of them before removing his leather gloves and placing them next to the basket.

Helen took notice of the gloves and filed that information away. It was still warm where she lived but John's home must be in a cooler climate. She gave him a discreet once over, which did not go unnoticed by Druitt. Biting her bottom lip, Helen finally said, "Actually, I could use some help moving the furniture in the bedroom. Would you mind?"

A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Not at all." Two trips into Helen's bedroom in two days? That was more than he had experienced in last 125 years. Things were looking up.

She leaned over and peered into the basket. "What's this?"

"Some local fare," he replied. "I stocked up this morning at the nearby farmer's market and I brought a little extra for lunch. Have you eaten yet?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. How about we move the furniture first, and then have lunch on the terrace?"

"As you wish," he agreed amiably and followed her into the bedroom. "May I ask why you want to move the bed? It seems quite reasonably situated against the wall."

She frowned. "Yes, except I hate it against the wall. I rolled over and smacked my hand hard against the wall last night. Also, with the winter coming, it will be warmer by the fireplace." The bed would have to be turned parallel to the fireplace, which was a little awkward when walking to the bathroom on the other side but she still felt it would be better than where it was placed currently.

Together, they pulled the white iron bed away from the wall and turned it sideways. John got on one side to push it by the fireplace while Helen pushed from the end of the bed. "Better," she commented, coming around the corner to stand by John. She gasped loudly as she suddenly jerked to a stop as her long dress got caught on a curved part of the grilled footboard. Turning, she didn't expect the ruffled bottom to pull away so easily and instead ended up pitching backward into John, who in turn lost his footing and went down onto the floor.

"Oomph!" he groaned, and then groaned louder a second time when Helen ended up sprawled on top of him.

"Oh my God, John, are you alright?" Helen breathed as she tried to turn around to face him, having difficulties as her skirt tangled around her legs. "Bloody dress!" she mumbled, shifting her legs to loosen the skirt before sliding off John and onto the floor next to him. She groaned as she lay on the floor then turned to her left to look at John, who was still lying on his stomach. They looked at one another and laughed.

"I thought we agreed that next time you'd take point," he teased and used his hands to push up a little to turn onto his side to face her.

"Sorry!" Helen giggled, "It's this awful dress. I haven't gotten used to wearing these voluminous gowns yet and I keep getting caught on things or tripping on the skirt." She lay back on the ground and sighed. "I'd kill for a pair of pants," she moaned. "I should never have let James burn my clothes."

John grinned. "That was rather silly of you. I must admit it has taken a bit to get used to your current state of dress. It's a bit, um…"

She turned back to him, and became aware of how close their faces were. She could feel John's breath against her temple as he spoke. "A bit what?"

"Much," he appraised, the corner of his mouth rising a little in a smirk.

The corner of her mouth turned in the opposite direction as she asked, "What do you mean much? As in unflattering? Are you saying I look fat?"

Grinning at her little incensed tone, John reached up and pushed a loose curl behind her ear. "I would never say you looked fat. I am not a stupid man," he laughed. "And you are flattering in anything you wear, but…"

"But what?" she prompted, her eyes narrowing a little at him, which only made him grin wider.

"These Victorian dresses involve far too much fabric for my liking. They cover up too much of your, shall we say, assets?" he teased, well aware of the fact that he may be backhanded any second now. Eying her neckline, which, from his vantage point on the ground was laying a bit crooked to reveal more of her upper right breast than it normally would, he added, "Well, not all of your best assets."

Helen looked down to see what he was staring at and squeaked, tugging her low neckline back in place. Due to the heat of late summer, she had not put on the lace insert which would have prevented such an incident. She glanced back at him, their eyes almost level, and frowned.

"You're the one who knocked me down and flashed me," he pointed out. "I'm just an innocent bystander." A happy one at that, he thought.

"Innocent?" she gasped. "You haven't been innocent since the moment we met."

"I admit, I was a little experienced when we met. As I seem to recall, it served us rather well," he cheekily said. Yep, he was definitely going to get slapped he thought and rather relished the idea. It would show that he elicited some passion still left in her.

Helen's eyes narrowed further as she raised her hand to his face, stopping right before striking. John didn't flinch as he waited for the inevitable. He was surprised when she instead lightly touched his cheek. Their eyes locked as her fingers gingerly felt the texture of his beard, ending with a light stroking of one finger over his lips.

The light hitching of his breath brought her back to the moment at hand. To his disappointment, she pulled her hand away. "Lunch, then?" Helen asked in a breathy voice before forcing herself to get up. If she lingered any longer she would do something she would regret.

"Lunch, then," he repeated and rose to follow her.

Both carried on as if nothing had happened and turned the conversation to John's serum while enjoying the basket he had brought. She had a list of items she needed him to collect and both agreed that James would be the best person to help provide the items. The cellar Helen decided would also serve as her lab. Assignments in hand, both parted ways.

John reappeared in Watson's library to find his friend slumped into one of the wing chairs, with eyes closed and playing a quick, high pitched song on his violin. Quietly walking up to his friend, Druitt seated himself in the nearby chair and waited for his presence to be acknowledged.

"You're back early," Watson muttered, a bit annoyed that his performance was being interrupted.

John shrugged, not that James would notice since his eyes were still closed. "I have a task from Helen." He watched mesmerized as his friend's fingers played on the strings and his bow flew back and forth faster as his song reached its crescendo. "Having a bad day?"

The thin line of James's mouth got tighter as he finished his song. Finally, he growled, his eyes flew open and he flung the bow at the wall as the violin dropped into his lap. "Damn it!"

"So that would be a yes," his companion interpreted dryly.

James dropped his hands onto the arms of his chair and turned to glare at his friend.

"The case not going well then?" John guessed and gave a soft laugh as Watson laid his head back and grunted, "No" through gritted teeth.

"There's something I'm missing," he hissed. "The facts I have are not fitting together." He bound up to retrieve his bow, now slightly chipped, and went to get a drink from a nearby decanter. He paused to look at John, who nodded, and proceeded to pour them both a drink.

Accepting the drink, John asked, "Has there been any new developments since the last time we spoke?" He took a sip and savored the taste as it coated his tongue before gliding smoothly down his throat.

"No," James grumbled morosely, sitting back down in his chair. "But if I don't crack this case another robbery is going to take place and someone is bound to get hurt. The sum taken is too large not to encourage a repeat robbery and if that happens without some sort of human carnage it will be a miracle." He took a large gulp from his glass and glowered. "I'm missing something. Something that's right there in front of me, and I just can't see it!"

John wanted to laugh at his friend's sulking but refrained. Watson was right. Sums this large would induce violence sooner or later. Money was one thing that humans would easily kill over. "You'll figure it out. You always do."

"Of course I will! But will it be before or after someone dies?" he glumly asked. He caught John's eye and a thought occurred to him. "You know who the culprits are, don't you?"

"I do not," John replied. "My younger counterpart is not exactly in his right state of mind during this time period to keep up with all the crimes in this busy little country of ours."

James gave him a shrewd glance. "Just because you were crackers does not mean you were not aware of what was going on."

John lowered his eyes as he took another sip from his glass. He gave Watson a nonchalant shrug and hoped that his friend bought it. He did, in fact, know one important detail in the case but did not want to get involved. James would solve the case and that little detail need not ever be revealed.

Watson had a peculiar feeling John knew something about the case. Maybe it was because Druitt was from the future and knew too much of what occurred over time. Details that Watson would give his most prized belongings to know. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "What task are you running for Helen?"

John handed the sleuth Helen's handwritten note and watched Watson's eyebrows go up in surprise. "What does she need all this for? Is she building her own laboratory? She's supposed to be on _vacation_ in seclusion," James said, scratching at his sideburn in consternation.

"You know Helen. She doesn't know how to just relax and go on vacation. She always has a little project on the side."

"You know what she's going to do with all this equipment and chemicals, don't you?" Watson wisely guessed.

"I do."

"And you're not going to tell me."

"Nope," John quipped as he placed his empty glass down on the side table. "So, can you acquire the needed items?"

James shrugged. "Of course. It may take a few trips to gather everything though. I can get a few from our stores at the Sanctuary but a few of the other items are not readily on hand."

Nodding, John replied, "Understandable. I didn't recognize a few of the items myself. So, would Friday work for stopping by?"

"Sure. Two of the items I have here on hand. You can have those now." James stretched and felt his frustration slowly melt from his body. "Meanwhile, how about our regular game of chess?"

"Sounds like a plan," John agreed and smiled amiably at his best friend.

By the time he arrived back at Helen's in the early evening, she had the cellar arranged for her new lab and a light meal prepared for them. After she gave her approval for the items he returned with, he went to put them in the cellar as she carried out their dinner to the terrace. There was a table in the kitchen but so far it had gone unused.

"How's James doing?" she asked as she placed the food onto the table and he poured their glasses of water.

John gave a soft laugh. "Frustrated. His case isn't going anywhere."

Her fork paused midway to her mouth, Helen's brows knit together. "Which case is he working on?"

"The robbery of some viscount's safe," John reminded her. "The silly git apparently kept a king's ransom at his country home. A bit dodgy, that."

"Ah yes, that one." She took a bite and tried to recall the facts of the case. "It's going to be a bit before he solves this one."

"I know. I didn't have the heart to tell him that. He's already taken to throwing his violin bows at the wall."

Helen chuckled. "James has the patience of Job but he can't stand not knowing all the answers first." She took a sip of her water and looked at John. "It is so strange to know what's going to happen and not say anything about it."

"Tell me about it. He's already accused me of knowing something about the case."

"Do you?" she queried. She couldn't imagine what Druitt would know about this case considering he was off fighting his own demon in a different part of the city.

John shrugged and shoveled more food into his mouth. She didn't need to know about that little detail anymore than Watson did. Some things in the past should stay in the past. Who was he to drag up other's dirty laundry.

Helen closely watched John's reaction to her question. His face was blank and reserved but she knew him well, probably better than anyone else. He was hiding something. "John," she asked in a warning tone.

He groaned inwardly. She knew him too well. "It is nothing. A minor detail that has no bearing on Watson's solving of the case. It was just something I stumbled upon once." He filled his mouth again and tried to give her a blank stare in return so that she could not read his mind. "This is excellent by the way. Nice to know you are a good cook in addition to all your other talents."

Her cheek dimpled though she tried to suppress it. "You're changing the subject."

"It wasn't worth discussing."

She decided to let it go. James would solve the case in about 5 more months if she remembered correctly and would reap a small fortune for discreetly doing so. "Did James mention how many trips he thought it would take to get all the items on the list?"

"Hmm, he thought perhaps four. One of the items he would have to specially arrange through back channels, as you probably know."

She nodded and the conversation eventually turned to the topic of her gardens and how she planned to restore them. The evening ended with John promising to return in three days time with more supplies from Watson.

This became their regular routine. Twice a week John would visit, often running notes and items between Helen and Watson, during which time he and James would engage in their chess games and talk about his cases – well any case except the Ripper ones. Helen was progressing on the anti-energy elemental serum and John stoically tolerated the necessary needle pricks and occasional blood withdrawals.

One afternoon John arrived to find Helen painting only in her chemise and robe. Her long hair was unpinned and hanging loose. "Interesting outfit," he murmured in an upbeat tone. He was going to have to pop in more often unannounced.

She was working at her easel facing the window and probably would not have suspected that Druitt was getting quite a nice view with the sunlight making her clothing somewhat transparent had he not stood stock still and just silently stared at her. Turning, Helen recognized the look of lust in John's eye and it finally dawned on her what was inducing his amorous mood.

A light flush came to her face. "I couldn't face the layers of clothing today," she explained, moving quickly away from the window, "and since I wasn't expecting you today I decided to dress down."

"Ah, well, James asked me to deliver this package to you. My apologies for popping in on you in your, uh, state of undress," he offered, a lopsided smile on his face. His tone was anything but apologetic.

"How often do you visit with James?" she inquired, taking the package from him.

"Oh, about 2-3 times week for our regular chess matches. Depends on how cranky he is with the state of his current case… and how exhausted he is from working with your younger self at the Sanctuary. You're a bit of a slave driver."

"Well, that's not fair. I'm stuck out here in the country and you're making house calls to Dr. Watson," she grumbled.

He smiled at the small pout gracing her lovely face. "Anytime you wish to visit with James I will be more than happy to take you to him."

She just sighed and carried the package off to the cellar laboratory.

John surprised her by returning the next day with another package.

"What's this?" she said, taking the brown paper wrapped package. "James has already sent me everything on my list."

He bowed slightly to her. "This isn't supplies. It's a gift from me."

Startled, Helen's eyes flew up from the package to his face. "You? What is it?"

"Open it. I can guarantee you will like it."

"Oh really," she said, and went about pulling apart the string that held the package together. John watched expectedly as she lifted the folds apart and stared at the silk fabric inside. The beautiful, deep blue silk had a small gold, floral pattern as decoration. Helen held the item up to inspect it further. It was a light weight silk dress that was cut really high on both sides. "This is really high cut for a cheongsam," she remarked, raising an eyebrow at him. If he thought she was going to wear this for him he had another thought coming.

"It's not a Chinese dress," he said, amused by the weary look on her face. "There's another part."

Helen held up the second matching piece, her eyes going wide. "Pants!" she squealed in delight and fairly danced on the spot.

He grinned. "It's a Vietnamese Ao dai. I know how much you were missing wearing pants."

Helen dug into the package and found a second outfit in red. The fabric was so soft and of a high grade silk. Underneath the second outfit was a pair of tan English riding pants.

"Those are from James. He regrets burning your clothing after hearing how much you miss your pants. Actually, I think he regrets burning you phone more than anything."

Overcome with happiness, Helen threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips. Pants! Three pairs! She was in heaven.

She had been so carried away in her enthusiasm that she didn't realize she was kissing John until his arms came around her waist, gently holding her against him. Her mouth opened in surprise, giving him the opportunity to pursue a deep, longer kiss. Too soon, she pulled away, leaving them standing close, both breathless and faces flushed.

"I didn't mean to…" she began, "I just got carried away…"

His smiling like a Cheshire cat wasn't helping. "You're welcome."

Turning away so she wouldn't have to look at him, Helen went back to her new clothes, trying to decide which one she was going to wear first.

"I'll pass along your thanks to James but I'm not kissing him," he joked, causing her to laugh and feel at ease again. He waited as she went off to change clothes and sprawled out onto the couch waiting for the big reveal. A few minutes later she returned in the red outfit, a wide grin on her face at how well the clothes fit and her hips swaying as she reveled in how light and soft the pants felt on her hips.

"A perfect fit," Helen purred as she made her way over to him.

He slowly raked his eyes from her feet to her face with the Cheshire grin still plastered to his face. "Perfect," he repeated.

Their eyes locked again and she quickly suggested tea as she made her escape into the kitchen. There, she placed a hand to her flutter heart and tried to still the feelings that were stirring within. "Get a grip on yourself, Helen!" she muttered under her breath. "It's just a pair of pants. Well, three pairs of pants. But it's no reason to go jumping the man." Problem was, she might actually want to jump John. And that was not a good idea. "Bad, bad idea," she muttered again as she loudly went about putting the tea together.

By the end of five months, a state of complete ease had developed between the pair. Many times she would work on her paintings while he either read stretched out on the couch or puttered around in the kitchen. It came as quite a surprised to both of them to discover that John rather enjoyed cooking.

Finally, Helen settled upon a serum she felt worked and John was instructed to inject it once every three months. A week then passed with no visit from John. As Druitt was her only real companion, Helen came to rely on his presence and, though she would never freely admit it to him, she truly enjoyed their time together. He was so much like the man she had fallen in love with as a young girl. The more time they spent together alone the more she was reminded of what had been lost for them both.

Another four days passed and Helen was now annoyed with how much she missed his presence. In the over six months since they had been stuck back in time, they had formed a new relationship beyond the angry and distrustful one of the past. She no longer felt the need to have a weapon within reach whenever he was around. She had even fallen asleep reading once in a chair by the fire only to later awaken to find a blanket covering her and John snoring as he sprawled across on the couch.

He had been respectful in his behavior towards her and did not try to push her into anything she felt uncomfortable with. Her long suppressed feelings for him were bubbling close to the surface despite how much she tried to bury them further down. Now, as she leaned against the cold window pane and stared out into the quiet, dark night, she finally had the courage to admit to herself that she was falling back in love with Montague John Druitt. It scared the hell out of her.


	20. Courting Dr Magnus Part 2

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 20: Courting Dr. Magnus Part 2

When John arrived the following day he was startled to see two men sprawled out on the terrace outside her home. Worried, he called out Helen's name and quickly moved into the living room, relieved to find her painting away at her easel.

"Why are there two men lying outside your home in the snow?" he queried as he walked up to her.

"They thought it a good idea to try and ransack my home and rob me. I disagreed," she explained coolly. Her back was too him and her focus still on her brushstrokes. Her drawing was of the wintery landscape outside her window with its bare trees and evergreen shrubs blanketed in snow. The painting invoked feelings of isolation and loneliness as far as Druitt was concerned. It was not his favorite of her work.

"Are you alright?" he asked in concern and came to stand close behind her.

She could feel him brush against her back and she straightened her spine to counteract the feelings his closeness invoked. Although she had no real right to be angry at him for not visiting lately, she was angry nonetheless. He and James had probably been having a grand old time being carefree bachelors while she was stuck in this country prison hidden away from most of society. "I'm fine," she said, her tone cold and unfriendly.

"Did they hurt you?" he asked as he placed a hand on her shoulder. She was acting strange, which truly alarmed him. If something had happened to her while he was away he would never forgive himself.

Helen pulled away from his touch and leaned forward to swish her brush into a cup of water to rinse the paint off, afterward harshly swiping the brush back and forth across a towel. "I'm not the one lying out on the ground in the snow, now am I?"

John pulled back and frowned. Her body was rigid and judging by the way she was smashing her brush tip into the black and gray pigments she was rather agitated about something. "No. But obviously something is wrong. If those hoodlums did not harm you then at the very least they quite upset you."

"I'm fine," she said through clenched teeth as she stared at her painting, her brush poised nearby in the air.

"You're not fine," he observed. "Tell me what's wrong."

Just then he shifted his focus the two men struggling to get up outside the window. Furious, he teleported outside, grabbed each by the back of their necks and in a flash of red the three were gone.

"Great, just great!" she muttered. John's back had been to her as he grabbed hold of the men and therefore she could not see his face, but she had no doubt that he'd been angry at the time. "If I wanted them dead I would have killed them myself! I do not need a man to do my dirty work for me," she hissed to herself.

Druitt arrived at the edge of a cliff with the two terrified men in tow. They were really nothing more than boys, probably not quite yet in their twenties. He held each at arm's length with their feet barely on the ledge. Below, an angry sea threw up cold waves to crash upon the stone cliffs surrounding them.

"How, how did you do that?" one of the terrified men asked him in French while the other cried "Oh my God!" in alarm at the fall awaiting them.

"God can't help you here," Druitt coldly told the pair, giving each a murderous glare that sent chills down each man's spine.

The older looking of the two tried to pull away but was unable due to Druitt's hard grip on the back of his neck. "What are you? The devil?" he gasped as some pebbles slid under his flailing feet to fall below into the ocean.

"Yes," Druitt rasped harshly, causing both men to panic even more. "I am your worst nightmare. You should not have come near her," he coldly explained, "because now I'm going to have to kill you."

"No, no, no, please, monsieur," both shrieked, trying to grab a hold of something to stabilize themselves.

John shook them both slightly, and was rewarded with another round of high shrieks and pleads for mercy. "Did you harm her in any way?" he asked, "and do try to be honest because I will know if you are lying."

Both men swore that they never even so much as set foot in the house. The madam of the house refused them entry and when they tried to push past her she set upon them in a way they had never seen a woman do before. She beat them, not the other way round, the younger man cried and once more pleaded for mercy.

John was well acquainted with Helen's combat skills, having been on the receiving end of her ire a few times too many, so he did not doubt the men's story. She was well capable of knocking them out cold without nary a scratch to herself. So why was she so angry when he arrived? If it had not been about the men and their bungled attempt at robbery, what was it about?

The younger man, desperate to be free, attempted to kick Druitt with his left leg, drawing John's attention back to his captives' situation. "Really?" John muttered in disgust and bashed the two men's heads together, knocking both out cold.

The trio teleported about a mile outside the town limits where John tossed the men onto the ground. Helen would be furious if he outright killed the men, so he was going to give them a chance to live. It would be a long walk back into town, especially in the snow, but men as healthy as these two could do it. And if they happen to freeze out here it was their own fault. It was survival of the fittest as far as he was concerned.

When he arrived back at the cottage, Helen was still standing in front of the easel, her body tense and it was apparent her focus was not really on her work.

"Are they dead?" she asked in a brusque tone.

He shook his head. "Not in the least. Nor maimed." He noted the deep sigh of relief she gave and waited for her to say something or at least turn around to face him. All he got was silence. When she still wouldn't look at him, he started to get angry himself. If she wasn't angry about the men that left only him that her anger was directed at. "Helen!" he barked when she continued to ignore him.

"Fine!" she barked back, throwing her paint brush at the painting. "You want to know what's wrong? What's wrong is that you just disappeared off the face of the earth with no word to me. You could have been dead for all I knew. And did you care, NO!" she yelled, her body heaving with her angry words.

It finally dawned on him what had her in such a snit. "You missed me," he said softly in surprise.

"I did not," she denied, folding her arms across her waist as she stared out the window.

A little smile came across his lips. "You did. You missed me." He had been so patient, so careful with his wooing of her and it appeared to have paid off. John's heart soared with the knowledge that she wanted him near again.

"You're imagining things," she huffed in denial.

John's smile got wide. "No. No, I don't think so. You, Helen Magnus, missed me. Just admit it."

Snorting loudly, Helen shook her head. "The hell I will. It's not true." She stared out the window into the oncoming darkness of the early winter evening. Their reflections were getting sharper in the window and that's when she squinted at John's reflection. Gasping, she whirled around to stare at him. "What happened to you?"

"You," he responded. "You happened to me and my life has never been the same."

Moving away from the window, Helen quickly walked over to him to stare in horror at his battered face. "Stop joking. I asked you what happened?"

"And I told you, you did," he smirked. "This is all your fault," he informed her as he pointed to the darkened bruises to the left side of his face. Below, there were large scratches across his neck that went beneath his shirt.

"How is this my fault?" she huffed. "I didn't tell you to carry off those hoodlums." She raised her hand to his face to inspect his wounds and immediately realized they weren't fresh. She frowned. "These are a few days old."

"Five to be exact." He tried to pull away but stopped as she grabbed his face with both hands and pulled his face close to her. "Are these animal claw marks?" she questioned, the doctor in her in full gear. "They're too deep to be canine or feline."

"That's because the creature wasn't either. And again, it was all your fault," he insisted, enjoying the light stroking of her hands on his face.

He grimaced slightly as she lightly scraped at one of the scratches with one of her nails. "You should have come to me sooner to treat these cuts," she said.

"It's fine," he insisted, pulling away from her and seating himself down onto the couch. "James cleaned the wounds and put ointment on them."

Her eyebrows flew up. "James? Good Lord. Medicine is not his strong suit. Why did you go to him instead of me?" She sat down beside him and gave him annoyed look. "I'm the medical doctor."

John shrugged off his long coat as he answered, "James was with me at the time and it was the least he could do since I saved his slow hide." Helen noticed his face tighten as he stiffly worked the coat off his left arm. "And in answer to not coming to visit you sooner, I was in no condition to comfortably do so. James doused me with enough morphine to knock out a moose." He leaned back against the couch and gave a sigh. The nearby fireplace gave off plenty of heat to warm the room and he was starting to feel tired again.

"Morphine? What in the world were you two doing?" she demanded as she observed the tired lines appearing across his face.

"We were capturing your pig beastie," he bluntly told her. "The nasty tempered pig thing that could walk on two legs, had sharp tusks like a mammoth and even sharper claws? Terrorized small towns along the moors? Red, beady little eyes? The locals that saw it and lived referred to it as the devil's boar? Any of this sound familiar, Dr. Magnus?"

"The Sanglier Clootie?" Helen gasped, leaping up to stand before him in surprise. She racked her brain and remembered the abnormal that James captured for their London Sanctuary. "Bloody hell, I'd forgotten about that." Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Wait a minute. How could James patch you up? The abnormal speared him in the thigh. James also has one broken rib and two bruised ones, not to mention all the bruises and cuts he sustained. I'm the one who had to patch him up and he was put on bed rest for two weeks… not that he followed orders and stayed in bed the whole time."

John gave her a wry smile. "The good doctor only sustained a few minor scratches. I managed to shove him out of the way of the tusk and let's just say your abnormal did not take too kindly to losing his prey."

"So James didn't sustain any serious injuries?"

John shook his head and grimaced again. The wounds were healing well but sudden movements still hurt.

Stunned, Helen surprised him by snapping at him. "What were you thinking going after an abnormal with James? You could have gotten killed! And what happened to not interfering with the timeline!"

Giving out a loud, put upon sigh, John laid his head on the back of the sofa and rolled his eyes at her. "James suggested I tag along with him to capture this abnormal, one which I might add _you_," he pointed at her, "insisted had to be taken into the Sanctuary immediately. We figured we'd have a boy's trip and have some fun along the way. Neither of us expected the demon swine from hell to try to kill us." He gave her a glare. "You might have mentioned that little fact to one of us and spared us the roll in the muck."

She held out her hands in apology. "I forgot about it, okay. It's been over 125 years since it happened. And you weren't supposed to be there anyway."

They glared at one another. "You're the one who cares about keeping the timeline intact. Frankly I don't think it was all that great at times," he grumbled, twisting to his left in his agitation only to groan loudly and grab at his side.

"You're not alright, are you," Helen accused as she sat down beside him again and leaned in close.

"I'm fine," he said, distracted by her scent as she began inspecting his neck and then lifted the collar of his shirt to stare down in.

"Sure you are, that's why you keep grimacing," she sarcastically offered. Any response he might have made was quickly forgotten when she began to deftly unbutton his shirt. When she reached his waist, she pulled his shirt out and then began pushing his shirt off his shoulders.

"What, what are you doing?" he asked breathlessly as her hands started feeling around his body. The touch was soft, but firm as she inspected his neck and torso earnestly. She had patched him up several times but this somehow felt more intimate.

Her breath tickled him as she explained, "Making sure your wounds are healing properly. When was the last time you took any medication?"

His breath hitched as she began inspecting the spot right above his waist. "Uh… about two days ago." If she kept this up he was going to be in a very awkward position. He briefly closed his eyes as he could already feel his body responding to her explorations.

"I'll make you up a lighter pain killer… you shouldn't take morphine for too long," she murmured softly as her hand began working the button of his pants, causing John's eyes to fly open and grab her wrist with one hand.

"Helen!" he whispered in shock, causing her to lightly laugh.

"I just want to see how deep the cut is on your upper thigh. Did it need stitches?" She pulled his hand away from her wrist and got his pants peeled back slightly before he grabbed her wrist again.

"It's fine," he tried to reassure, his face beginning to flush. He was definitely starting to feel stirrings below and needed to get her hands off him soon or a very cold shower would be need.

She became aware of his body's reaction to her touch and a smug little grin began to pull up at the corners of her mouth. "It's not like I haven't seen you without your pants before, John," she said in amusement as both hands grasped the sides of his pants. Just to be mischievous, Helen purposely tucked her fingers over a little into the inside of his pants so that part of her fingers rested against his skin.

"Yes, but it's been a while," he explained, getting flustered and starting to breathe a little faster. She seriously needed to move back and remove her fingers from his pants soon or else he was liable to push her down on the couch and have his way with her.

She gave him a smug little grin, her eyes twinkling. "Has anything changed that I should know about?"

He narrowed his eyes at her as he saw how much she was enjoying teasing him. "I can assure you my dear that everything is still in good working order."

Helen laughed aloud. She couldn't remember the last time she'd made him this uncomfortable. "I'll keep that in mind. It might come in useful later." She chuckled again as she felt him squirm slightly. He was becoming aroused and she really should back off before it was too late. "Meanwhile…" before he was able to stop her, Helen pulled his pants enclosure apart and quickly yanked the left side of his trousers down to complete her examination. John's mouth dropped open as she pulled down the band of his underwear a bit to see the end of his scratches and bruises. "Hmmm, not too bad. Looks like James did a thorough job of patching you up."

She released his underwear band to snap lightly back against his skin, gave him a naughty smile and buttoned his pants back up before he was able to able to respond. Well, he was responding but not with words. He was biting his bottom lip and his jaw was tense. She deliberately left her hands gripping the top of his pants to continue her little torture. She could feel his shallow breaths against her face and his eyes had become more dilated as he became aroused.

"So," she murmured, "I'll just go and make you up that pain killer, shall I?" She batted her long eyelashes and again gave him a dimpled smile.

"You are an evil woman," he grunted lowly. She had teased him just enough to make him very uncomfortable.

She leaned in to touch her lips to his. "Now we're even. You made me wait for days… now you can wait." She pulled back before he could kiss her and got up to go get his medication, making sure to swing her hips enticingly as she walked away. Behind her, she heard John give out a deep groan of frustration and laughed to herself. All the anger and worry she had felt for the last 11 days was gone. Her good mood had returned in full force. Tonight she, Helen Magnus, had reaffirmed her sexual prowess and power over one Mr. Montague John Druitt. She could have him at any second with just the snap of her finger. What a delicious thought.


	21. Courting Dr Magnus Part 3

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 21: Courting Dr. Magnus Part 3

It was a good twenty minutes before Helen finished putting together a gentler painkiller than the morphine James had originally given Druitt. Though the stone walls of her cellar laboratory were thick, the temperature was still a bit nippy. She pulled the wool shawl tighter around her shoulders and figured that she had given John enough time to recover from his aroused state. His shocked reaction to her grabbing and undoing his pants still amused her greatly. When they were young and had first become lovers John was the one who took the lead. She was a quick learner and together they were equally passionate in their love for one another. The inexperienced girl was now a very experienced woman, something that John seemed caught off guard about tonight. Helen was more than capable of seducing a man, as John got a little taste of half an hour ago. It would be interesting to see how he would return to her little gesture Helen thought as she walked up the cellar stairs to reemerge in the kitchen.

The aromas of the beef stew she had simmering on the stove filled the little kitchen and caused her stomach to rumble. Carrying the little bottle, she returned to the living room where she found John lying across the couch facing the fire. He turned his tired face towards her and slowly got to his feet. He had regained control of his body and wanted only to return to his bed at this time. The teleporting had taken more out of him than he had expected.

"Here's the pain medication," she said as she handed him the dark, glass bottle. "Take one teaspoon every eight hours for the next two days. Your wounds are healing well. I expect the worst of it will be over in the next day or two."

He gave her a low bow. "Thank you." He pulled on his long coat and tucked the bottle into his pocket. "Well, if you will excuse me, I will take my leave now."

Helen's eyes widened. "You're leaving? But you haven't been here for very long." Her hand clutched at her shawl and a frown appeared on her lips. Surely he wasn't angry over her little flirtation earlier.

"I'm a bit tired. I think I should go home, take some of your medication and just go to sleep," he explained. The dark shadows under his eyes validated his statement. "Good night, Helen," he said softly as he prepared to teleport away.

Her hand shot out to grab hold of his wrist. "Wait. Have you eaten?"

"Um, no," he answered, caught off guard by her question.

"You need to eat something before taking the medication," she instructed. "I have a stew ready to be served. Why don't you eat some of that before leaving?"

"Thank you but I wouldn't want to impose," he said, his face conflicted. He didn't want to leave her yet he felt he needed to return home before the last of his strength left him. His wounds would be healed before the end of the week. Mostly he just needed some uninterrupted sleep.

Seeing that he was going to depart, Helen firmly pushed him back down onto the couch. "It's not an imposition. The stew is ready. We can eat here by the fireplace."

She turned away quickly as he said, "Yes, but...," and strolled out of the room as if she hadn't heard him. John sighed as he laid his head back against the couch. Perhaps if he ate quickly he could leave before he passed out on her couch. It was far too short and too cramped for him to comfortably sleep on in his current state.

In the kitchen, Helen went about quickly scooping up two bowls of the hearty stew and cut up slices of French bread which she placed on one plate. Two glasses of water were poured. She then put a spoon in one of the bowls, picked up the plate of bread and bustled back to the living room.

John was still seated where she left him, thankfully. Helen gave him a smile as she placed the food on the coffee table before him. "It looks delicious," he said in his soft, melodic voice. Indeed, the stew's hearty aroma beckoned to him.

"Tuck in," she encouraged before going back to the kitchen for the glasses and her bowl. After placing them on the table, she seated herself next to him and mirrored him by balancing her bowl on her lap and reached for a slice of bread.

"This is really good," he praised as he dipped another slice of bread into his stew. "When did you become such a good cook?"

Helen turned sideways to glare at him playfully. "What you mean _when_? I have always been a good cook, thank you very much."

He gave a soft laugh. "Oh. I guess I must have just imagined that somewhat burnt roast that took 10 chews to swallow. And Nikola poking at the lump nearby as he leaned over to whisper to Nigel asking if it was supposed to be potatoes or carrots. Or the undercooked bread pudding that took James out for 24 hours." John chuckled remembering James lying pale faced on his bed later that night, hand on his stomach, proclaiming in a low wheeze "I always knew she was going to be the death of me. I just didn't think she would do it by way of pudding."

Giving a gasp of indignation, she lightly swatted him on his right shoulder. "It was the first time I cooked the entire meal by myself. How was I to know that the cream had been sitting out a little too long? And Nikola said no such thing."

"He did. And Nigel whispered back that he thought it was carrots but they were a bit lumpy like potatoes so perhaps it was potatoes." John chuckled again as he recalled Nikola cringing slightly and then all four men slapping fake smiles on their faces as Helen beamed at them before taking a bite herself. And Helen soon slapping a fake smile on her face when she realized the meal hadn't turned out quite the way she hoped. As this was still early on in their friendship, everyone had been completely polite with not one openly admitting the meal was a bit off.

"It wasn't that bad," Helen defended, then, catching John's smirk, laughed. "Okay, it was that bad." She took a sip of water and gave him a smile back. "By the way… we're having bread pudding for dessert." John's choking on his bread caused her to laugh again.

Coughing, he gulped down some water to help clear the bread lodged in his throat. "You know, this stew is really filling. I suspect I'll be too full for dessert," he rasped roughly as his eyes teared up from coughing. Maybe she was still mad at him and had decided food poisoning was how she was going to get her revenge. The pants incident earlier must have been her lead up to the actual revenge.

As if reading his mind, Helen pursed her lips at him and frowned. "I am not going to give you food poisoning. I'll have you know my bread pudding is excellent."

"Well it couldn't be any worse," he laughed teasingly as he gave her nose a little tap.

"I'll have you know that Julia Child taught me how to make this bread pudding. And it is excellent!" she huffed good-naturedly.

"I'll take your word for it," he said as he spooned the rest of his food into his mouth. The combination of the tasty stew, crusty bread and the low crackling of the nearby fire relaxed further him into a sleepy state.

Helen noticed John's attempt to suppress a yawn. "Take your medication. I'll go get the pudding," she announced, picking up their bowls and heading off to the kitchen.

He pulled the bottle out of his jacket, poured some into his soup spoon and quickly swallowed it. His tongue lolled out the side of his mouth as he grimaced from the bitter taste and he quickly downed the rest of his water. Druitt then sighed as he slouched back into the cushions. He'd know soon enough if she was still angry at him and prayed it wouldn't involve food poisoning. He'd seen firsthand the effects of Helen's bad pudding on a man. And that time she hadn't purposely tried to poison James.

Returning, Helen caught the resigned look on John's face and narrowed her eyes at him as she set the plates before him. "I am not going to give you food poisoning," she repeated as she reseated herself next to him. "Honestly, how you would think I would stoop so low is beyond me. If I was going to kill you it wouldn't be by poison."

"True," he pondered aloud. "You'd just shot me with the biggest gun you could find."

"Exactly," she said with a big smile as she handed him his plate and fork. "Eat up."

Not taking his eyes off her, John forked up a section of bread pudding and gingerly took a bite. "Umm." The smile on her face spread as he eagerly forked up another bite. "This is excellent."

"Of course it is," she answered as she worked on her own slice. They both laughed and finished off their dessert in comfortable silence.

John gave a loud sigh as he rested back against the couch and closed his eyes. Stomach sated, he wanted nothing more than to go to sleep right here. His yawn prompted her to suggest tea. "Thank you," he said with a shake of his head, "but it is time for me to take my leave."

She stood along with him and caught his arm as he swayed slightly. "You aren't in any shape to teleport," she pointed out, her brows creased with worry.

Yawning again, he looked over at the couch. "I do not think your couch will work. It's not wide enough for me to comfortably rest given my current condition." He reached up and stroked her hand before pulling it away from his arm. "I need to sleep in a bed." He yawned loudly again.

Helen interlaced their fingers to keep him from teleporting away. "I know," she said softly. "You can sleep in my bed."

John gave her a sweet, sleepy smile. "You won't like the couch any more that I would. I won't ask you to give up your bed for me." He stroked her still intertwined hand with his thumb.

"The bed is big enough for the both of us," she began as John's eyes flew wide and his bottom lip dropped open in surprise. "We are both adults, John. I'm sure we can share a bed and behave properly."

He exhaled a soft hiss. "Oh, I get it. You ply me with good food, dose me with medication, offer to share a bed with me and then at the last minute you change your mind and toss me out." He pulled free from her grasp. "It isn't necessary. I'm going home… to sleep in my own bed."

"No, you're not," she firmly ordered, grabbing his wrist to drag him along behind her.

"Helen," he moaned in a whine as he allowed her to pull him towards her bedroom.

Entering the room, she informed him that he could sleep on the right side and she would take the left. "Undress and go to bed while I put away the dishes and put out the fire," she instructed in a tone that broached no argument. John was then left alone, not sure what to do with himself. He was still a little dizzy, which was probably a side effect of Helen's potion. If he teleported wrong he could seriously harm himself. If he stayed here and shared a bed with her he could end up saying or doing something that would upset her. "I can't win," he thought and dropped his head with a loud sigh.

By the time Helen returned, John was under the covers and his breathing deep and slow. She closed the bedroom door, bent to light the wood in the fireplace, putting the screen back in place when the fire caught, flipped the light off and quietly went into the bathroom. A few minutes later she remerged in her nightgown and quickly pulled the covers over herself as she settled into bed. She pulled one of the large pillows from behind her head and placed it between their bodies, rolled onto her side to face the fire and closed her eyes. Her nerves were a little on edge at having John sleeping next to her and she tried to push away thoughts of him undressed and in bed with her. The man was recovering from injuries and drugged up. He was hardly in the mood for anything amorous she reminded herself.

"Haven't you forgotten to warn me that if I try anything you'll shoot me with the gun you've stashed nearby," a sleepy voice said behind her.

"That would be redundant since you already know that," she answered, a soft smile briefly playing on her lips. She hadn't slept well the last few nights and sleep was pulling hard at her now.

"Hmmm," was the only answer she got before John started to softly snore. The rhythm of her deep breathing soon joined him.

The up and down motion caused her to frown. She took a deep breath and moaned softly, becoming more aware of the low, steady thumping sound as it invaded her sleep. She yawned and slowly opened her eyes. Grey-blue orbs stared back at her, disappearing as her eyes closed, then reappearing as her eyes opened again. Awareness slowly flooded through her as she found herself nose to nose with John Druitt. Warm skin was pressed against her chest and his warm breath blew against her face.

"What?" she groggily asked as she raised her head. "What are you doing on my side of the bed?" she grumbled as she frowned at him.

She was rewarded with a Cheshire grin from John. "I think you mean what are _you_ doing on _my_ side of the bed," he drawled as he pushed loose curls behind her ears.

"No," she frowned, "you're on my side. And you can get off me," she complained as she placed a hand on his chest.

"As you're the one lying on me, you'll have to be the one of move off… but you don't have to do that on my account." He continued to smile as she looked around and realized that she was resting on top of him. "And you might want to remove your other hand from my, um, lower region," he suggested, laughter in his voice.

"Oh my God," she gushed, yanking her hand away and quickly sitting up by his side. Her hair was a mass of wild, uncombed curls that fell to her waist. Her blue eyes were large and her mouth open as she struggled to get her bearings. The low cut of her nightgown had given Druitt quite a show as she sat up and he was unable to keep his eyes from landing upon that glorious region of her body.

Huffing, Helen threw her hands across her bust and gave him a disgruntled look. "Really, John!"

"Again, you flashed me," he defended, thoroughly enjoying himself, as he stretched and placed his arms behind his head. The sight before him was so beautiful it took his breath away. He then unfolded one arm to reach up and touch a curl by her ear. "Your hair," he murmured. "It's turning blonde again."

Her face turned into his palm as he threaded his hand into her hair. "I know. I need to dye it again but I haven't decided whether I want it to stay black or go brown or red."

"Not blonde?" he questioned as he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

She closed her eyes as she firmly said "No" and enjoyed his gentle touch. "Ashley looked better as a blonde than I did." Her breath caught as she mentioned their daughter's name and her eyes flew open, giving him a fleeting glimpse of her pain, before she looked down.

"A darker color does make your eyes stand out more," he gently observed, ignoring her mention of their lost child. They were not yet to the stage of their relationship where he felt he should bring up Ashley. "But you are beautiful in any color of hair."

Her eyes lifted back up to his and she smiled softly. "Thank you." The dark circles under his eyes were gone and his coloring better. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Good. You could kiss me and make me feel even better, if you like," he said with a suggestive raise of one brow.

She smirked back at him. "Feeling that good, huh?"

"And how are you feeling? You must have been exhausted yourself considering you sleep even longer than I did."

Smiling, she replied, "Good." She hadn't felt this rested in a week. "And hungry. Want breakfast?"

"Dinner might be more appropriate. The sun appears to be going down, not up," he noted as he looked out the window.

Startled, Helen looked at the window too and found a gray scene. Snowflakes swirled about and the wind rattled against the window lightly. "We've slept almost the whole day!" she exclaimed, turning back to him.

"Well, I was drugged…" he shrugged, "I must say, your pain killer seems to have done the trick. I feel almost back to normal." He stopped talking as she leaned forward to tilt his face with one hand to inspect his vanishing wounds. "The scratches and cuts are almost gone, probably thanks to the Source Blood flowing in your veins. The bruises have faded quite a bit too." She kept her left hand pressed across her chest to prevent her nightgown from giving John another show. Her right hand dropped to his chest and trailed down to his waist as she continued her examinations. "This is almost healed too."

He caught her hand and lifted it to his lips, bestowing a slow, lingering kiss on the inside palm. "So, we've established that I am well and in good working order," he said flirtatiously.

Helen leaned forward until their faces were almost touching, and then scuttled off her side of the bed, leaving John disappointed and alone in the bed. Hearing him give a loud sigh, she giggled to herself as she went into the bathroom to put on her robe and wash up.

By the time she had returned, he was fully dressed and waiting for her in the living room. They ate more stew and bread pudding, all the while conversing easily about this or that, while contentedly curled up on the couch. Afterwards, it was Helen's turn to be disappointed when John took his leave to return home, promising he would return soon to visit. And with a swirl of bright red, he was gone and she was alone again. Sighing, she pulled the blanket tighter around her, took a sip of her warm tea and stared into the crackling fire. All around her silence filled the home, save for the occasional wail of the wind outside.


	22. Discoveries

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 22: Discoveries

John arrived in Watson's library the next day only to find it deserted. He waited a half hour, decided James wasn't going to turn up and left his usual sign that he'd stopped by – placing the black king piece in the center of the chess board – and was about to teleport away when Watson burst into the room in a state of high agitation.

"You're back, about time," Watson unceremoniously greeted him as he whipped off his deerstalker hat and tossed it onto the table.

His manservant, Langley, trailed behind him and looked surprised to find Druitt in the library. He had not let the tall man into the house but then again Druitt seemed to just turn up whenever he felt like it. Langley picked up the hat, confirmed with his employer that dinner would be served and left the two men alone, closing the door discretely behind him.

Watson's eyes twinkled as he poured them both a drink. "A toast," he announced holding up his glass as he passed John his, "to another case solved."

Druitt held his up briefly in salute. "You caught your criminal I take it," John asked, amused by James's good mood. The sleuth did so enjoy being in the right.

"Criminals," James corrected, seating himself in his customary wing chair. John followed suit. It had been over 7and a half months since John stepped back into Victorian England and during that time he and James had reestablished their friendship within certain parameters. Both understood the anomaly of their rekindled friendship given the practically non-existent one between Watson and the crazed Druitt of their timeline. "There were five involved – the viscount who planned the whole thing, his two gambling partners who also staged robberies to make it appear as though a ring of thieves were at work, the servant paid by the viscount to carry off the robberies and another clueless servant chosen to take the fall for the robberies."

"Quite the little scheme going on there," John remarked. "What was the motive for the whole thing?"

Watson gave a smirk as he lit up his pipe. "To hide the viscount's gambling losses. It turns out that while he holds the title it is his wife that holds the purse strings. His gambling losses far exceed his monthly allowance from his wife and so in order to pay the other two men the trio came up with this robbery scheme." James snorted as he preened, "The fools did not count on me being called into the case by Inspector LeStrange. I only took the case because I knew the servant charged was innocent." James reached over and made his first move on the chess board.

Pitching his hands together in the steeple pose, John leaned forward to move his king back to its proper starting place then moved one of his pawns. "Lucky for the man you believed him, otherwise he would probably have spent the rest of his life in prison. The sums involved were a minor king's ransom."

James gave a deep puff on his pipe, and, closing his eyes, inhaled the enticing aroma of his tobacco. "One curious thing about the case though, one that I have yet to solve." He reached over and moved one of his pawns with his eyes still closed.

Pausing, John threw a glance at his friend. "What's that?" he asked, keeping his voice level, as he made his next move.

"Each of the three guilty men swears that they are missing about 1000 pounds that cannot be accounted for." He made another move and for the next few minutes they played in silence, focus completely on their game.

Scrunching up the corner of his mouth, John stared at the board carefully before making his move. The game was not going his way. "Obviously, they are lying. They probably either lost the funds gambling or used it on women, or both."

"I think not," James countered, moving his piece to take John's rook. He then turned his hawk-like stare onto his companion. "You know what happened to the funds, don't you?" He puffed on his pipe again and waited for the denial.

"What?" John huffed, seeking to appear outraged at the accusation, while keeping his eyes glued to the board. "Are you accusing me of taking the funds? Really, James, you should know better. Money meant little to me in my crazed state. Anything I wanted I just took. I didn't need money." Rattled, his move of his bishop was in error as Watson soon captured that too.

James shook his head. "Oh I know you did not take the money." He watched John intently as he made his next move. Though Druitt's exterior was cool and blank, the fact that he would not look at Watson more than a few seconds gave John away. "I do think you know who did." With that, James took John's queen.

Lips in a thin line, John glared at the board and didn't say anything for two minutes. He had no real moves left to win the game and James had no intention of backing off. "Why can't you let it go? Why must you be so pedantic about everything?" John finally asked, giving out a long frustrated groan.

"I am not pedantic about everything," James corrected, moving forward to capture John's king, thus ending their game. "I just like knowing all the facts." He then sat back in his chair and simply stared at John, knowing that Druitt would crack soon enough.

"Fine!" John grumbled and glared back at his best friend. "Nigel took the money."

The pipe fell out of Watson's mouth and he quickly grabbed it off his lap, swatting at the little sparks from the spilt tobacco while dropping the pipe onto an ashtray. "What? Why would Nigel take the money?" In all the scenarios that ran through his brain, the Invisible Man was not one of them.

Sighing, John explained. "Nigel's young wife is expecting. He needs money to support his family. This was an easy, untraceable exchange of funds. The servant involved with the theft is Nigel's brother-in-law."

Agitated, Watson leapt up and paced once before spinning around to glower down at Druitt. "How do you know all that?" Helen had informed him that Nigel's wife was expecting some time back but he couldn't see the Druitt of their time having this knowledge.

Just then, Langley knocked on the door before entering with their meal. Both men waited in silence until the manservant was gone. Once the door was closed, Watson turned his eagle-eyed glare back onto his friend.

"Because," John said through pursed lips, "I happen to overhear Nigel and Edward's meeting in an alley on the docks following the third robbery. Edward took the assigned amount from the safe as instructed. Once the robbery was reported, Nigel would sneak back into the home unseen when the owner and Edward were out and take an additional amount. Edward would have an air tight alibi and the owner was reluctant to report a second robbery. It was rather a good scheme."

Indignant that he hadn't figured it out, James placed his hands on his hips. "Why didn't you tell me this from the start?"

John rolled his eyes. "You do not need to know everything, Snoopy Pants. You never made the Nigel connection the first time this took place and I felt no need to air out the dirty laundry of a fellow member of The Five."

James paced again. "Don't call me that! And what am I supposed to do with this little bit of knowledge?"

"Snoopy Pants," John ground out again in annoyance. "And why do you need to do anything with the knowledge. Just let it go. I told you, you never made the connection so there's no need to change anything now."

Throwing out his hands, James roared, "And what if he does it again? He cannot be allowed to just steal from the rich, no matter how useless and cavalier they might be." James began pacing again in anger. He did not want Nigel to be arrested, certainly not because of him. Nigel was the youngest of The Five and was like a mischievous little brother. He was so likable, even Tesla was fond of the man, though Nikola would never admit it. The two enjoyed tweaking one another and to an outsider it might appear that they did not really care for one another but James knew better.

John stood up and walked over to the table to look over the meal's offering. "I do not believe there are any further robberies in this particular case. You did solve it. Nigel's focus is now on his wife and soon-to-be newborn child." He motioned to the food and James, huffing, came over to join him. Both sat down and began to tuck into their meal.

"But it's not the end of his career of crime, is it?" James wisely guessed, cutting into his chicken with gusto.

John shrugged. "You already know the answer to that." He forked a piece of the chicken into his mouth, made an agreeable motion with his head to say the meal was good, and waited for James's next complaint.

James grunted. "I suppose I should do something about that."

John rolled his eyes. Pedantic git. "Why?" he rumbled. "Let it go, James. For Nigel's sake." When Watson merely gave him a stubborn look back, John continued. "Happiness is fleeting, especially in lives as long as ours." He gave James a pointed look. "Nigel is very happy right now. His family has brought him a kind of happiness and peace that he will not know for a long time to come."

Startled at the implication, James put his silverware down and frowned at his friend. "Are you saying that his wife dies in childbirth?"

Shaking his head, John gave a deep sigh. "No. The child is born but… the mother and child do die fairly young." He took a deep breath and stared down at his plate. The loss of one's wife and child hit close to home for him, even if Helen had not legally become his wife.

Watson groaned. "Is it preventable?" He couldn't stop himself from asking, despite knowing that they weren't supposed to mess with the timeline.

"No," John said softly. "There was some type of illness involved."

Both men finished their meals in silence, lost in their thoughts. Knowing the future didn't mean peace of mind, at least in this case.

The house was silent when he arrived. The living room, kitchen, terrace and cellar were unoccupied. No activity outside the cottage. That only left two rooms. As he stepped through the bedroom doorway he saw her, flopped sideways across the bed despondently. Her head hung partly off the side of bed with her long hair almost reaching to the ground and she was looking at him upside. More blonde streaks were coming through around the crown of her head.

"What are you doing?" he asked with mirth in his voice.

"I'm bored," she moaned.

"Bored?"

Sighing, Helen chanted, "Bored, bored, bored."

John gave a soft laugh. Boredom was something the great Helen Magnus could not deal well with. Never had. He wished he had a camera to record this moment. It would come in handy for future blackmail. Unfortunately his iPhone's battery was dead and he doubted she would stay in that pose long if he set up one of the large cameras available in this time period. Pity. The view of her upper bust was rather interesting from this angle.

She sighed again as she swung her head lightly back and forth. "Bored, bored, bored."

This was exactly what Ashley must have looked like when she was pouting on her bed. That made him frown and cringe slightly inside. Thinking about his dead daughter while admiring her mother's bosom was probably inappropriate. Yep, definitely inappropriate he thought again as he looked back at her.

Helen saw his frown and construed it as a criticism. "There's nothing to do! I've cleaned the entire house from top to bottom. I've planted seeds in the garden. I've rearranged the canned goods in the cellar. The horse is brushed and his stall cleaned. And if I have to paint one more landscape I think I shall scream," she rattled off quickly, exhaling loudly afterwards. Her face was red at this point due to the blood rushing to her head. Her scalp was rather tingly and she finally rolled onto her stomach, resting on her elbows to peer over at him grumpily.

He smiled again. This position pushed her chest tighter together, giving him an even better view.

"And if all you're going to do is stand there and leer at my chest you can leave," she threatened, her eyes narrowing a bit. She was in bad humor and wasn't about to put up with his nonsense.

That wiped the smile off his face. "And a good morning to you too," he greeted as he leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. He was dressed in tan working pants, blue long sleeved shirt, and tan boots. He was dressed for a hike outdoors she thought.

"It's almost afternoon," she countered.

"It'll be evening soon if you keep this up," he returned. "And as much as I'm enjoying the view," he smirked, causing her to purse her lips at him, "the afternoon is ticking away."

"And?"

"And our abnormal will be long gone if you keep sitting there pouting like a small child," he admonished.

That caught her attention. "Abnormal?" she asked curiously as she sat up. "What abnormal?"

"The one I'm going to show you if you will move your sweet little bum and get dressed quickly. There's a small window of opportunity," he informed her.

"And what am I supposed to do with an abnormal? I can't catch it. That would alter the timeline for the London Sanctuary," she griped.

He pushed himself off the doorway and walked to stand before her. "Oh, so if you can't bag and tag the abnormal it's not worth the effort?" he said sarcastically as he put his hands on his hips. "I don't suppose it has occurred to you that you might just, oh I don't know, observe it?"

Helen scrunched up her mouth at him in annoyance. "And what would that accomplish besides reminding me how much I miss my work and that my current life is about as exciting as watching paint dry. And I know about watching paint dry. I've done a lot of that lately."

John laughed, moving his hands to grab her by the waist and drag her off the bed, ignoring her squeak of protest. "It will remind you that there are more wonders out there than you can imagine and it will hopefully renew your scientific curiosity of world," he grandly suggested. He could already see the flicker of interest in her eyes. There was no way she was going to pass on the opportunity.

"What kind of abnormal is it?" she demanded, too intrigued with their conversation to notice that his hands were still holding onto her hips. "I've probably already seen it." She stopped and gave him a suspicious look. "It's not dangerous, is it?"

"It's an abnormal," he snorted, "of course it's dangerous... but I would say on a scale of 1 to 10 it would rate a 4. No poison, no fangs, no bloodsucking, or man eating habits that I am aware of."

She snorted back. "Well that certainly narrows it down."

"Get dressed," he ordered, giving her a playful swat on the bottom. "We only have 2-3 hours before it's gone."

"Why so short a window?" she asked as she took hold of his hands and pried them off her hips.

"You'll see soon enough. Now move, woman!" With that, he turned to march out of the room, calling out over his shoulder, "Wear your riding pants. No skirts!"

Ten minutes later, she found him in the kitchen munching on some tea biscuits and looking impatient. He nodded approvingly at her appearance – riding pants, long sleeved shirt, and boots. Her hair was pulled back and braided.

Grabbing the small canister of biscuits, he tossed them in his small leather satchel, handed her the blanket he'd swiped off her couch and grabbed hold of her shoulder. Seconds later they arrived in a jungle-like clearing. "Qinghai province, China, near the Tibet border," he explained as she looked around them.

He grabbed a hold of her hand and led her quickly to a nearby hill which they scaled with a little difficulty, stopping on a ledge about two inches below a flatter clearing. He motioned for her to move to her right and soon the ledge opened out onto a comfort landing with the clearing now less than an inch below them. Bushes blocked a clear, open view of the clearing.

John spread the blanket before a thinner set of bushes, motioned for her to take a seat, sat himself, and worked on breaking off some of the branches along the bottom of the bushes to get a better view into the clearing. Helen didn't say a word as she took in her surroundings. He handed her the satchel, from which she extracted the biscuit tin and a thermos of water.

Satisfied, he relaxed and smiled at her. "It shouldn't be too long now. It comes around here every fifty years or so I've read. It was just a stroke of luck we're here in the right year."

"Are you going to tell me what type of abnormal they are?" she asked, opening the tin to grab a biscuit before holding the tin out to him.

"That would ruin the surprise," he chastised as he bit down on a biscuit.

She could see he was clearly pleased with himself. The abnormal must be quite impressive for him to bring her here. "Fine. Then at least tell me how you found this place."

"I overheard some Chinese monks talking about it once. They were telling the younger, newest member that he could never speak of the creature he accidently saw while out on his spiritual walk to the local monastery in the nearby town. The two older monks let the man believe that he had had a vision which predicted that he would become a great and wise leader. They did not want the creature found because it's believed to be a symbol of rebirth and longevity."

She grabbed another biscuit and held it up to her mouth as her eyes scrunched up in deep thought. "Hmmm, a Chinese symbol of rebirth and longevity." Images of dragons, peonies and serpents ran through her mind.

He merely smirked at her and ate another biscuit. "Need a clue?" he teased. "I once saw mention of it in your father's journal."

"What?" she exclaimed loudly, only to have him clamp his hand over her mouth.

"Shhhhh!" he hissed, "I think I hear it coming." With that he laid flat on his stomach to look through the opening at the bottom of the bushes. She copied him and together they layed side by side staring down through the foliage.

They heard them before they saw them. Low, high pitched cries came closer… following by shuffling, scratching noises… and when they finally burst out of the brush into the clearing their coloring was so brilliant, so vivid that Helen couldn't help the gasp of awe that escaped her. Beside her she heard John give a low, deep chuckle as he glanced sideways at her.

The huge birds looked like peacocks, kind of sounded like peacocks, but they were definitely not pavo. They had golden heads, red plumage on their heads, and long slender necks that curved in an s-shape into orange and scarlet bodies. Their wing and long tail feathers variated from orange down to deep red tones.

"I've never seen more than one," John whispered in an awed tone. Before them were four, probably two males and two females given the way they were prancing around one another with two of the birds larger in size. They came closer and they continued their play. One of the smaller ones came to stop right before the bushes where the humans hid and twisted its head up to let out a cawing cry that called one of the bigger ones to its side. Helen observed the bird's large, sharp, curved claws but it was the bird's feathers that really caught her attention. She pushed forward a little to get a better view. The feathers almost appeared to be scale-like. Definitely not soft like a normal feather. Her attempt to reach out and touch the feather was halted by John's hand which had shot out to grasp her wrist quickly. She turned to frown at him and found him shaking his head vigorously at her.

Before she could shake him off, the larger bird attacked the smaller one, causing it to shriek and buck. It grabbed onto the back of the smaller one's neck while the smaller one flailed and began ripping out feathers of the larger one. Soon the other pair of birds repeated the behavior. They moved around in a circular pattern, shrieking out high pitched tones, and wrestling with one another.

"What's going on?" Helen hissed, taken back by the horror show unraveling before her.

"I have no idea," John whispered back. He was just as appalled. He had never seen this happen before, but then he had never seen more than one of them at a time. He was about to suggest teleporting away when the little one before them began spitting out small flames. A wing feather on the male caught on fire and Helen couldn't believe her eyes as the whole bird began to catch aflame. Then the male set the female on fire with the other pair doing the same. Once they were all in full flame the pairs separated, came back together and began to croon and rub up against one another. Their song changed to one that was softer, more musical and they kept wrapping their long necks around one another and rubbing beaks. And despite the bright flames the birds did not seem to be dying or in pain.

"Are they… mating?" Helen asked, still in shock.

"I have no idea," John whispered back again. "I've never seen a pair together."

Helen got her answer when the males mounted their mates and the four burning bodies became two fireballs glowing so bright that she and John had to shield their eyes and bury their faces against one another. "I swear, I didn't know this was going to happen," John hissed.

"What was supposed to happen?" she hissed back, both falling to the ground when they heard several small explosions.

John threw himself over her until the explosions stopped and only the sound of hissing, dying flames could be heard. He couldn't believe his bad luck. He brought her here to see a small miracle and instead they ended up witnessing violent, crazed birds setting themselves on fire. Slowing standing up, they peered down at the mess before them. Large mounds of ashes and scattered piles of feathers resided where the birds once stood.

"Oh my God," Helen intoned, still too stunned to know what to make of this. She pushed the brush aside and walked out onto the clearing to better examine the bodies.

Equally stunned, John quipped, "Gives new meaning to the term 'mating for life', huh?" He looked around not believing what he was seeing. He knew the bird would catch on fire, that was what made it so amazing, but he hadn't expected it to die.

The feathers called to her again. She reached down to pick one up and ran her fingertips over the rough surface. Softer than scales but harder than feathers. What in the world was this thing made of? Many of the feathers were still on fire and she dipped down to light the one in her hand. Handling the feather by the hard stem she watched in amazement as the feather burned bright but did not decay. Instead the feather seemed to act as a candle that did not melt. She held her other hand near the flame and could feel the heat. Yet the feather in her other hand remained cool to the touch. The feather was fire resistance she realized. This must have been what John wanted her to see. She looked over to see John's face and deduced that he hadn't expected the birds to go all kamikaze on them.

"What are you doing?" John asked as she began to gather up the loose feathers.

"The feathers are beautiful… and fire resistant. I'm sure I can find some use for them," she said, instructing him to "Grab as many as you can."

"Why?" he asked, giving her a look like she was crazy before bending down to gather up loose feathers when she gave him her "do it now" look that she had perfected raising their stubborn daughter.

Reaching for some near the closest pile of ashes, Helen remarked, "I've never seen anything like this. They're incredible…" she paused as her eyes landed on a large, spotted beige egg nestled near the center of the ashes. That egg had not been there before. "There's an egg here."

"What?" he replied, turning his head back at her.

"In the ashes, there's an egg."

He moved closer to the other pile of ashes and saw an egg similar to the one Helen was starring at. "There's one over here too."

"John, what kind of birds are these?" she asked as she slowly reached for the egg, jerking to a halt when the egg moved.

He came back to stand beside her. "The bird of long, lost mythical legend… a Phoenix."

Helen's head whipped around to stare at him. "A phoenix? That's impossible!" she exclaimed, looking back down to watch transfixed as the egg shook violently again and thin cracks began to appear on the shell's surface.

"You mean like how vampires don't exist and there's no such thing as a sasquatch? That kind of impossible?" he said sarcastically, also eyeing the egg cautiously.

The eggs both suddenly burst open, causing Helen and John to jump back and crash together, landing in a pile on the ground. Helen gave a breathless laugh as she peered down at him from her spot sprawled across his chest. "Sorry!" Any response he was going to make was forgotten when cries recalled their attention back to the eggs. The pair detangled themselves and stood to look down on the newly hatched birds. They were mostly bald with dull brown downing sprinkled about, had red, demonic eyes and beaks too large for their heads.

John tilted his head, frowning. "That has got to be the ugliest chick I have ever seen. With a voice like nails scratching on a chalk board. No wonder there aren't that many to be found." He glanced at Helen, saw the look in her eye, and shook his head. "No way." She gave him a little smile in response. "Helen, you cannot take one of the chicks."

She shrugged. "Why not? It's all alone out here. It will probably die on its own. If we take it back to the Sanctuary James can take care of it."

"You mean your younger version can play with it," he accused. "And I hardly think taking a fire breathing bird back to your Sanctuary is the smartest move unless you consider burning the whole place down a good idea," he snarked. They were only supposed to observe the bird. Not gather feathers and capture an obnoxious chick.

"Oh. I forgot about that," she murmured. Perhaps grabbing a chick was a bad idea. The last thing she wanted was to burn down the London Sanctuary. Helen's attention moved to the ashes around the birds. If she didn't know better she'd swear it was starting to shimmer. "Is it me or are the ashes shimmering?"

"They're phoenixes. They arise out of the ashes, remember, Dr. Know-It-All," he sarcastically tossed at her. "I doubt they're going to appreciate you trying to swipe one of their babies." The glimmering got brighter, stronger, and hotter as the birds began to take form with unexpected speed. "Perhaps we should leave now," John muttered. The last thing he wanted to do was take on a fire-breathing, sharp clawed bird seeking to defend its young.

"You might be right," Helen agreed and together they slowly backed away.

The birds had completed their transformation. The shriek of the male spurred them to quickly move through the brush to retrieve their belongings. John grabbed up the satchel, tossing in the feathers he had, and collected the blanket while Helen grabbed the biscuit tin. She yelped when a bird's head shot through the brush to shriek angrily at her. Frightened, she threw the only weapon she had, the tin, at the bird. Her aim was off as the tin flew over the bird's head and hit the ground behind. The bird turned back as shrieks and running feet from its fellow birds signaled the flock setting themselves on the biscuits that had scattered from the open tin. Helen gave out a small sigh of relief as the bird retreated to fight over a biscuit with one of the female birds.

"What would we do without English biscuits?" John joked in her ear as he laid his hand on her shoulder and Helen felt the pulling motion that was part of the teleporting process.

They arrived back in Helen's living room flustered and breathing hard. John dropped the satchel and blanket on the coffee table and sunk down onto the couch. "Well, that certainly wasn't what I had in mind when I planned this," he remarked, his mind replaying the disaster of a date he had planned. He had expected her to light up at the discovery that phoenixes were real… not her having to dive in the bush for safety from an angry father phoenix. Looking up, he took in her rumpled appearance, complete with leaves tangled in her hair. He wasn't sure what to make of the look on her face. Sighing, he stood back up and put his hands together apologetically. "Helen, I sincerely apologize for this afternoon. I had no idea that the birds would be mating or would try to attack us."

Seeing how upset he was, she gave him a reassuring smile. "There's always some risk when dealing with an abnormal."

"Yes, but I wanted you to be amazed and have a good time," he whined. "Not whatever the hell that was."

She laughed. "On the contrary, that was the most fun I have had since arriving back to 1899."

"Really?" he asked in surprise.

"And I got souvenirs!" she squealed and did a little happy shake of her body. The pile of feathers were still crushed against her chest.

John laughed at her exuberance and was rewarded with a kiss on the lips. "Thank you," she murmured, before kissing him again. She left him with a big grin on his face as she went to put the feathers away in the dry cellar. Maybe the day wasn't such a loss after all he thought happily as he sank back down onto the couch and placed his arms behind his head.


	23. The Things We Do For Love

Author's Note: I must confess that the theme song for Pinky & the Brain was playing in my head while writing the scene below for James & John. "They're Pinky & the Brain… one is a genius, the other's insane…" LOL

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 23: The Things We Do For Love

James was pacing impatiently by the fireplace when the flare of red finally appeared in the center of the room. "You're late," Watson complained as way of greeting.

"I didn't know we had an appointment," John retorted and turned around to see his best friend. The sight of Watson caused him to stop dead in his tracks. "What in the…" was all Druitt got out before throwing his head back bursting into laughter.

"Are you quite through?" James hissed. Time was of the essence and they needed to get moving.

Gasping for air, John laid his large hands on the back of one of the wing chairs, and tried to catch his breath. He looked over at James and began laughing again. Once again he wished his iPhone's camera was working. This would have been the ultimate in blackmail material. "I'm almost afraid to ask," he spit out between laughs, "but why are you dressed like that?"

Rolling his eyes, James thought not for the first time that life would be so much easier if everyone's IQ were on par with his. "I'm dressed like this for my health," he sarcastically explained. "Why else would I be wearing a dress? I need to go undercover, of course!"

"Of course," he drawled much to Watson's irritation. "Otherwise one would have to interpret that you like parading around in women's clothing." He chuckled again as his dark mood lifted. He'd had the most trying of mornings and needed a good laugh. John was confident that he had worked out the mathematical equations needed for programming the continuum device to a certain year and month. What he was having difficulties with was cracking Adam's code. Worth's notebook was completely coded and the little bit that John had deciphered led him to believe that the notebook gave the instructions on how to power up the device and the construction details for building the device's support structure. At least every other morning Druitt had worked on the device since delivering it to his cottage by the sea. If he could solve the problem with notebook he could work on the next step of the plan – convincing Helen to interfere with the timeline to save their child.

He leaned forward and poked at his friend. "And what would dear Helen think about you borrowing her clothing to wander about the city? I doubt she would take it as a compliment that you both wear the same size."

"Har har," the sleuth replied as he quickly moved across the room to pick through items on the coat rack. "This is not one of Helen's dresses." Indeed, she had banned him from borrowing any more of her gowns after he tore and stained the last one chasing two thieves through the back alley in the merchant district. James now had to rely on Mrs. Havers to supply him with the occasional dress when undercover work was needed.

"I see that now. The chest area isn't quite ample enough to fit the likes of Helen," John observed cheekily. He made a small wagging motion with his right hand. "By the way, you're left breast is drooping lower than your right. You might want to fix that before going outside," he offered with an obnoxious grin.

"Shut up," James ordered before grabbing both of his 'breasts' with his hands and adjusting them. John laid his head down onto the back of the chair and started laughing again. James ignored him as he took in Druitt's appearance and then grabbed a walking stick and large, gray scarf. "Here, this will do," he said as he thrust the items at Druitt. John was wearing a medium gray, tweed suit with a pale blue striped shirt and darker gray tie.

John looked down at the two items he held in each hand. "What am I supposed to do with these?"

"Well, the scarf goes around one's neck and the walking stick works by leaning one's hand upon it as they walk," James explained as if John were a child.

"Thank you. I would never have figured that out on my own," his friend retorted in an annoyed tone.

"You're welcome," Watson tossed back. "That's why I'm the brain and you're the brawn. Now let's get moving. We're going to be late."

"Late for what?" John asked in confusion. With an impatient huff, Watson grabbed the scarf and began arranging it around Druitt's neck, only to have his hands slapped away. "Do you mind?" John growled. The only person he allowed to wrap anything around his neck was Helen and that was generally only her arms as she kissed him.

"Mycroft has asked me to investigate a case of espionage and one of the suspects involved is meeting a lady for lunch today in the restaurant of a well respected hotel. I want to observe them," James explained as he picked up a matching bonnet off a nearby chair. The woman, he believed, was the middle person between the buyer and the seller. "Going alone might draw unwanted attention to my person, thus you need to accompany me so that I might blend in with the other diners."

John stared at his friend and shook his head. "And you couldn't go as a man because…?"

"The suspect might recognize me. He's familiar with my connection to my brother. Captain Steele would never think that the young woman seated nearby would be me in disguise. And no one would have a clue who you are, which makes you the perfect escort."

Chortling, John answered, "Young woman? Try old maid. And I don't recall agreeing to do this."

"Fine, middle aged woman," James glared back. "And of course you'll go with me. It's an adventure."

"James, I am not going to be your escort to lunch if you're dressed like that. You may have shaved your beard, trimmed your sideburns and put on makeup… and that's horrible shade of pink lipstick by the way… but I can still tell you're a man. As would anyone else who looks carefully at you," John exclaimed, waving his hands about as he talked. "And your Adam's apple is showing!"

James reached up to button the high collar of the dress, thereby covering his Adam's apple. He then went over to a nearby wall mirror and put the bonnet on, pulling down the double bird's nest netting over his face. He turned back to Druitt for approval. "There. What do you think?"

Groaning, John nodded. "Passable."

Walking towards the door he motioned for Druitt to follow. "Be grateful I'm not wearing the peach colored gown. That one makes my skin look sallow."

John chortled again. "That's it. I am not going with you. I won't be able to keep a straight face throughout the whole meal."

"You're a cold blooded killer. You can fake it," James reasoned, holding the door open for his stubborn friend.

"Why can't you take Langley?" Druitt whined. As amusing as this could turn out to be he was a little uncomfortable with attending a meal out with his best friend dressed in drag.

"Because Langley is recognizable to those in the know," James sighed, his patience about gone. "Now get a move on it old boy. We might not be able to get a good seat near the suspect if you keep dawdling."

John grunted unhappily. "Fine! But if you ever tell Helen about this I'll hang you by your underpants off the tower of London." He soundlessly stomped toward the door, a large frown on his face. The scarf was scratchy and he dragged the walking stick behind with his left hand.

"You're meant to lean on the stick as a crutch," James instructed. "And why not tell Helen? Think she'd be jealous?" he joked, winking at Druitt as he passed him to go out the door.

"Don't wink at me dressed like that!" John groaned, following in his wake. "You're going to give me nightmares!"

"You are a nightmare!" Watson yelled over his shoulder as they left for their stakeout.

The next day, Helen was curled up on her couch when he suddenly appeared. Her hair was loose and pulled over onto one shoulder and she was turned towards the other shoulder to read her book. She was wearing her best dress, a lavender-plum colored gown that was unbuttoned enough to show off some of her cleavage. The astonished look on Druitt's face was exactly what she was hoping for as she dressed this morning.

"Your hair," he began in his melodious voice.

She placed her book down, sat up straighter and smiled up at him. "Do you like it?"

"I… " He considered it, finally deciding, "yes. It's just been a very long time since I've seen you with red hair. This one's a darker shade," he noted.

She nodded as she moved her legs over and patted the seat next to her. "Yes, I couldn't decide between dark brown and red so I split the difference."

He seated himself next to her and continued to stare at her like a love sick puppy. The combination of plum dress, dark reddish-brown hair, pale, perfect complexion and deep blue eyes were a knock out. She left him speechless, not for the first time since they had met.

Running her eyes over him, she noted that his wounds had vanished, he was dressed in dark grey slack with a heathered, soft lavender shirt and a dark, long coat that reached down to his knees. His hair was shorter and his beard was trimmed down and smaller, showing more of his face than two days ago. Not for the first time their choice of clothing went well together.

Nodding to the basket in his hands, Helen asked, "Is that for me?"

"For us, actually," he replied, finally snapping out of the spell she had put him in. "A picnic for two," he shared with a smile.

"Oh, how fun." She looked over towards the fire. "We can put a blanket down there," she suggested as she stood.

He stood also, placing the closed basket in his left hand and took her hand with his right. "I had something else in mind… somewhere else in mind." He smiled as she gave him a quizzical look. "Are you game?"

"Yes," she answered without giving it a thought. "Where are we going?"

John squeezed her hand, thrilled that she would blindly go with him so easily. "It's a surprise. A blanket would be useful though," he reflected, looking down at the one she had discarded on the couch.

Helen reached down, grabbed the quilt, and the next thing she knew they had arrived in a field of wildflowers and trees with a view of the sea before them. She pulled her hand loose and slowly spun around to take in their location. "Where are we?"

"Malaysia. I thought it nice to have a warmer change of scenery." He took her hand and led her over to a tree that offered a better view of the ocean. Taking the blanket from her, he spread it on the ground and placed the basket in the middle. She took his offered hand and slowly lowered herself to the ground, and arranged her dress so that she could comfortably sit on her side next to him.

Lifting the top of the basket, John handed her the glasses, pulled out the wooden tray and then began setting the food atop the tray. Helen placed the glasses onto the tray and then added the plates and silverware onto the blanket while he opened the bottle of red wine and filled the glasses. She took a sip from her glass and smiled. A smooth, aged vintage.

"What's the occasion?" she asked, well aware of what it was, as she reached for a grape.

Giving her a knowing look, he opened the wrapping of the warm brie and handed her the small knife. "Valentine's Day, of course." They stared at one another as they digested what it meant for them to be spending their first Valentine's Day in over a century. He waited for her to protest and suggest that they return to her home. She waited for him to begin stammering and pledging his undying love.

After two minutes of silence, she looked away to plunge the knife into the cheese and tore a slice of bread with her other hand. She spread some of the creamy cheese onto the bread and handed it to him as she fixed herself another slice. The ice broken, they ate their meal in happy companionship as they talked about how beautiful the scenery was and how John had come upon this place. It was late afternoon and the winds were calm. It was a perfectly lovely day.

By the time they had gotten to dessert, John had picked enough flowers from nearby for her to have a small bouquet and Helen was wondering when he'd get the nerve to kiss her. They finished off the bottle as they ate their fruit tarts while Helen told him about making pastries once with Julia Child. She had spent a week with the chef once and had gotten the cooking lessons of a lifetime from the master herself.

John just rested back on his elbows listening to her share more of her life with him. It was now close to 8 months since they found themselves stranded together back in time. They had slowly renewed their acquaintance with one another, shared details of their lives spent apart from the other, and learned who the other was all over again. Their feelings for one another had awakened and began to consume them once more. Now it was just a matter of one of them getting the courage to make the definitive move.

Helen reclined back on the ground and turned on her side to face him. She had not rebuttoned her dress back up to the collar, thus giving him a very nice view down the front of her dress, a fact that she was well aware of John realized. "And how is James doing?"

John grinned. "Preening like a peacock. He's solved his case, no one was killed and he was rewarded with a rather fat purse." He himself was rewarded with a musical laugh from Helen.

"He does tend to do that when he's cracked the case," she grinned. She and James kept in touch by letter but it wasn't the same as in person. She did miss him so.

He nodded as once more he thought how beautiful she was. The darkness was descending on them and it was beginning to get harder to make out her features in all their beautiful detail. Reaching out, he stroked her face as he quipped, "It's Valentine's Day. Why are we talking about Watson when there are more topics on hand to discuss?"

He felt the corner of her mouth turn up in a smile as she threw back, "Why are we talking at all?" They stared at one another intensely for a moment, after which she suggested they return to her home. "It's getting dark and I have another bottle of wine on hand."

"Not just yet," he surprised her as he scooted closer and then rested fully on his back. The little sparks were popping up all around them and soon the night air would be shining with thousands of blinking white lights.

"Why not?" she got out before she noticed the show starting around them. "Oh," she gasped in delight.

"Just wait a few minutes. You'll get the light show of your life," he informed her as his right arm stole underneath her shoulders to pull her up against his chest. Helen snuggled closer to him, resting her head underneath his chin. Soon, the air around them was alive with tiny buzzing noises as thousands of lighting bugs danced around their bodies.

Just as he hoped, Helen's face was aglow with delight. "John, it's beautiful. I don't think I've seen anything so lovely."

He kissed her forehead. "It pales in comparison to your beauty," he murmured softly as his arm stroked her shoulder. He heard her intake of breath before she titled her face to look up at him. Her right hand reached up to his cheek and before he knew it her lips were on his. The first kisses were gentle as they reacquainted themselves with the other's lips. The kisses deepened, tongues exploring and stroking one another, and John's hand tangled into her hair to pull her even closer. Both finally pulled apart, panting as each tried to catch their breath.

"John," she moaned, looking hesitant for a moment. His heart dropped down into his stomach. They had come so far and he so wanted to go further. He was unable to hide his disappointment from her. Helen gave him a small smile as she stroked his face. She knew why he had chosen this spot and on this day. The first time they had made love was following a picnic for two in a secluded wildflower covered field. It had been Valentine's Day, three years after they had met. Of course, that field had been somewhere along the coast of Argentina.

She ran her finger over his swollen lips, taking a deeper breath when he sucked in her finger, and made up her mind.

He felt himself being pushed flat on his back as Helen moved on top of him and kissed him deeply. "Helen," he moaned, pushing her hair to one side before she sat up straddling him. She peered down at him, skin flushed, eyes dilated and a sly grin gracing her swollen lips.

Grinning up at her, John remarked, "Why is it I always end up on the bottom?"

"Perhaps I like being on top," she teased, leaning down to nip at his bottom lip, then leaning back. "You were on top the first time we made love. Seems only fair I get to be this go round." She laughed as his face lit up and then his hand threaded into her hair to pull her back down into his arms where he plied her with eager kisses.

Giggling, she murmured, "Slow down, my love. The night is still young. No need to rush."

"Good to know," he answered against her throat as he worked his way down towards the base of her neck, eventually making his way to her chest. The lightening show around them was completely forgotten as the former lovers relearned the other's body. Eventually the buzzing sounds of the bugs were drowned out by the sounds of kissing, panting, moaning and cries of passion. The sounds that should cap the end of all successful Valentine Days.


	24. Love Interrupted

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 24: Love Interrupted

His heartbeat was starting to return to normal. She might likely be the death of him after all he thought, giving a snort aloud without meaning to.

"What?" she asked in a drowsy tone as her body tried to pull her deeper into sleep.

"You," he murmured. "You are going to be the death of me." He felt her mouth turn up into a smile as her face rested against his bare chest.

"Hmmm, promises, promises," she teased, crying out in surprise as he playfully swatted her bare bottom with his hand. She responded by smacking her hand against his taunt stomach.

He gave a low, rumbling laugh and kissed her forehead. "I am serious. I am one hundred and sixty one years old, woman. Four times in a three hour period might likely kill me." They were sprawled out on top of Helen's bed, limbs entangled, and both breathing deeply as they stood on the edge of sleep.

She laughed against his chest, tickling him, and willed herself to look up at him. Her sleepy blue eyes gazed up at him as she corrected cheekily, "I believe it's three times in a three hour period. Your age must be affecting your memory and your ability to count, old man."

He returned her smirk. "It will be four times as soon as I have recovered my full strength." He then kissed her nose as she laughed at him. "And I'd watch who you are calling old man, old woman. You're a year older than me, remember?" He stretched his left arm to place it under his head, inclining him up to better peer down at her. "Or have you become so addled in your geriatric age that you've forgotten how old you are?"

"Geriatric?" Helen gave an indignant gasp and smacked his stomach again.

He laughed. "Don't take it as a complaint, my dear. Just think of us as a fine vintage of wine. We get more flavorful with age."

"And potent," she giggled as she lay her chin on his chest and gave him a sweet kiss.

His right hand moved up to stroke her cheek before slowly running down her length to come to rest on her backside. She did have a glorious bum… among other glorious assets. He gave her a cheeky smile. "You've been potent since we first met. It's why I've lost all reason since you first batted your blue eyes at me and gave me a dimpled smile as you told me your name was 'Helen Magnus.'"

She giggled again. "Oh, do go on, Mister Druitt."

"Okay," he agreed. Without notice, he pounced forward and flipped her underneath him, evoking a squeal of surprise from her. "Well, what do you know," he said as he gave her a predatory smile. "It appears I am recovered."

Bracing her hands against his chest, she pushed him back a bit. "John," she said in a warning tone, the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth belying her serious tone.

He ground his lower half against hers, eliciting a moan of pleasure from his partner, and said in a deep, throaty voice, "Helen." He quickly leaned forward to capture her lips as he grabbed her hands and pinned them on either side of her head. They eventually pulled apart to catch their breaths and he rested his head on the side of her head. Giving her temple a soft kiss, he whispered in her ear, "You wouldn't want to disappoint the birthday boy, now would you, Dr. Magnus?"

Giving out a soft, breathy laugh, Helen responded, "Heaven forbid." Her breath hitched as his lips suddenly descending onto her neck, sucking on a pulse point he knew drove her crazy. Her hands pushed up against his, causing him to release his grip of her wrists and their hands intertwined. Once he was sure he'd re-marked her neck, he kissed his way back up to her ear, nipping gently at her ear lobe. As she moaned louder, he murmured in her ear, "Happy birthday to me," and fiercely kissed her lips as she laughed.

Helen brushed at the bottom of her skirt to remove the stray lint that had appeared on her dark blue gown. While she had always taken care of her appearance, being thrust back into the Victorian era forced her to pay more attention to details that she might have dismissed in modern times. The slower pace of life in this era left one with plenty of time to torture oneself over the minute details. John was expected to arrive soon and she wanted to look perfect.

The deep blue of her dress brought out the red in her reddish-brown hair, which she had framing her facing before being pulled up in the back in elaborate curls to cascade down the middle of her back. She had left off the soft lace that normally was tucked around the collar of the dress, instead opting for a gold shawl with blue flowers embroidered throughout. The jewelry was the same that she had worn when he first arrived at her cottage - delicate gold and pearl earrings dangled from her earlobes while a thin gold chain with a delicate gold cross rested right above her buxom chest.

The cross had belonged to her mother and had at some point gone missing from Helen's jewelry box. Because of the loss, she had taken it from the jewelry box of her younger counterpart. As she ran a finger over the cool metal she thought again how ironic it would be if she herself were the culprit for the missing necklace by taking it from the box. She shook her head. Time travel was too confusing, even for a brilliant mind like hers.

A bright flash of red announced Druitt's arrival into the living room. She straightened her posture further and placed her hands demurely together as she awaited his acknowledgement of her appearance. As silly as it might seem, they both retained some of the vanity that came with their social class and era. Ironically, he also was wearing the same clothing as the first day when they had seen each other in her new cottage. He was wearing his dark slacks, deep blue shirt with a lighter blue cravat, and a matching dark jacket. His beard was cleaner trimmed, his hair longer and there was a little more gray sprinkled throughout. The rest of his face retained its youthful appearance, though perhaps there were a few more laugh lines around his beautiful grey-blue eyes.

John gave her a low bow as he greeted her with "Hello, my dear." Straightening, he smiled approvingly at her appearance. She still looked like the young woman he had fallen in love with oh so long ago, despite the different hair color. "It appears that great minds think alike," he acknowledged as he walked up to her, noting that they were both dressed in the same clothes as the first time they met here.

"So it seems," she smiled up at him as he leaned down for a kiss.

"Happy birthday, my love," he said in his melodious voice as he leaned back and wrapped his arms around her waist to cross his hands above her backside. "Are you ready for our next adventure?"

"Absolutely. It's been a well over fifty years since I've been there. It will be fascinating to see what it looks like in this time period." As it was her birthday, Helen had chosen the site for their next visit, this time being bolder and choosing a more populated location. It would be busy this time of year but she figured if they were careful they could mingle with the crowds and not cause problems with the timeline. Though honestly, as more time went by, she was becoming less and less obsessive about maintaining the correct timeline. Not being bogged down with the responsibilities of Sanctuary work was giving her a type of freedom she had never experienced in her life. She could come and go as she pleased, particularly with John's ability to teleport them anywhere in the world.

"First, I have a gift for you," he said hesitantly before slowly pulling the small velvet box from his coat pocket. She froze like a deer in the headlights at the sight of the box. Seeing the horrified look on her face, he quickly stuttered out, "It's… it's not an engagement ring! I wouldn't be that tactless."

"Then what is it?" she asked in a strangled voice, eyeing the box as if it were a bomb and refusing to touch it. She had her right hand pressed against her stomach, which was feeling slightly nauseated.

John quickly opened the box, almost dropping it in his haste. His hands were slightly shaking and he nervously looked at her face as he awaited her reaction. He had fought with himself before deciding to go through with the purchase and now, as he saw her unfavorable reaction, realized that he had miscalculated. It was too soon. They had only become lovers again 8 weeks ago. He should have waited longer. But it was too late now that she had seen the box. "It's a friendship ring," he said in a tight voice.

Helen stared silently down at the silver, polished ring with a ruby in the center. She was well acquainted with the claddagh motif - the hands representing friendship, the heart for love, and the crown standing for loyalty. "John, I…" she began, finally releasing the breath she had been holding.

"You don't have to wear it if you don't want to," he gushed out nervously. "But I do hope that one day you will want to," he went on. They locked eyes, two people struggling to reconcile their difficult, violent past with the new, vulnerable young love that had reemerged recently due to a bizarre set of circumstances.

"Maybe someday," she said softly, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

He nodded slowly, relieved that she had not outright rejected the ring and yet disappointed that she had not embraced it either. He leaned down to place the ring on the coffee table, letting out a quiet sigh when his face was turned away from her, before straightening up. "Well, shall we go?" he asked softly, worried that she might decide she no longer wanted to go with him on the trip… or perhaps she might even decide she no longer wanted to see him again. He knew he wouldn't be able to stay away from her, even if she begged him to do so.

She saw the range of fear and worry warring over his features and gently reached out to place her hand into his larger one. "Yes. I've been looking forward to it all week," she said, giving him a small smile.

"Me, too," he confessed, brightening again. He held out the crook of his arm for her to slip her arm into and soon the pulling feeling overcame them as they teleported to a region in northern Italy. They arrived in a sheltered, shadowed corner near a building, luckily unobserved by the couples and families that strolled by on the sidewalks.

Giving one another reassuring smiles, they moved forward towards the sidewalk to join the others. It was early April and still a little nippy in the early afternoon. Helen pulled her shawl tighter around her neck and leaned closer into her lover as they walked arm in arm. Things were still raw between them but it was her birthday and she was determined to have a good time.

The spring festival was well underway. Families and couples crowded the streets while food venders called out hoping to lure patrons to buy their offerings. Music could be heard up and down the piazza and adjacent side streets. The cheerful setting and happy voices helped lighten the tension between the lovers.

"What would you like to do first? Stroll some or have a bit of lunch?" John asked, relieved that she was willing to move past her discomfort to be touchy feely with him again. He lightly put his arm around her, grateful that she had picked Italy as their destination. Here, he was able to be more demonstrative in public than he would be in England.

"Let's stroll a little bit," Helen suggested, looking around at the colorful stalls with their loud, animated venders.

"As you wish," he agreed and they walked amiably down the street, every once in a while dodging the occasional group of running children or having to go around animated elderly people engaged in what would seem like an argument if one did not understand the language. Both John and Helen were fluent in Italian and felt quite comfortable mingling with the anonymous crowd.

A stall of colorful scarves, shawls, handbags and shoes caught her eye. Letting go of John's arm, she stepped up into the stall and began perusing the items. She felt the texture of a pair of rose colored leather slippers accented with small delicate fabric flowers made of different threads of soft gold, pinks, salmons and fuchsias. Smelling a sale, the vendor, a bouncy elderly gentleman, quickly began chatting her up, telling her how lovely the color would be against her skin and that wife had made flowers herself.

"Ah, madam, your skin is like the most perfect shade of alabaster, and the color of these slippers would be compliment it so well," the vendor bragged unabashedly.

Helen began to barter for the slippers when she felt a body rub up against her side. Turning to whom she assumed would be John, she was startled to find a man in this thirties leaning in close to her with his nose near her curls and he seemed to be sniffing her hair. "The shoes are perfect for you, my lady. Allow me to purchase them for you," the stranger smoothly offered as he made another discrete attempt to smell her.

She recoiled. "No, thank you," she responded adamantly as she stepped away. The man was at least two inches shorter than her, with a very round head, thick brows, a flat wide nose and eyes that were an unusual green-yellow color that she had never seen on another person before.

She countered the vendor's price only to have the stranger reach out and place his hand on the slippers in her left hand. "Please, I insist," he added, giving her an attempt at a sexy smile that frankly creeped her out.

"You insist on what?" a deep voice asked from behind her as Helen felt a familiar taunt body press against her back and his left hand come to rest on the left side of her waist.

The shorter man frowned at the sight of the big man glaring down at him from behind the beautiful redhead. "You are together?" he asked, almost in a growling tone.

Helen's right hand came around to rest on top of John's hand on her waist, as if to pull John's presence tighter around her. "Yes," she replied firmly. Normally she would think nothing of a man hitting on her. It happened all the time. But there was something off about this stranger, what she couldn't quite pinpoint, and she only wanted him away from her. It would put a damper on her birthday to have to manhandle some idiotic stranger who couldn't take no for an answer. John's tall, foreboding presence would be a deterrence.

The stranger narrowed his eyes as he stared up at his rival, trying to gauge the tall man's mettle. "Ah, pardon. There was no ring," he insincerely apologized as he stared back at Helen with an almost hungry look on his face.

Narrowing his eyes back, John leaned forward to place his face near Helen's and answered the man's challenge. "We do not need one." The menacing look Druitt gave the other man had its desired effect. The man lowered his eyes as he mumbled another apology, though his eyes flickered back to Helen before he scurried away.

Helen closed her eyes, exhaling loudly the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and gripped John's hand tighter. A slight wave of nausea hit her. She took a deep breath and quickly raised her hand to her mouth, suddenly feeling lightheaded.

The elderly vendor noticed her paling complexion and hastened closer asking, "Are you alright, my dear?"

She nodded and was hit with another wave of nausea. John moved around to peer down at her and immediately noticed her paleness. "Helen, are you okay?" he inquired. "If you're not feeling well we can return home and come back a little later."

"No way," she replied, gritting her teeth as she mentally pushed away at the queasiness. "We're already here and we've been looking forward to this all week." Seeing he was about to protest, she added, "I do think a little food and drink might help though."

John relented. It was her birthday and whatever she wanted she would get. "Do you still want the slippers?" he gently asked, looking at the pair she had clutched to her stomach.

Helen gave the vendor a small smile and paid him his last quoted price, no longer feeling up to haggling for a better price. John then draped one arm around her shoulders as they began to walk away. His other hand presented her a small bouquet of red roses tied with braided pink ribbon. "So that's where you went while I was shopping," she laughed softly before raising the flowers up to take a deep whiff of their sweet, musky scent.

"Yes," he said, giving her temple a kiss, "though had I known men were going to be hitting on you the moment my back was turned I would not have left your side."

"Ugh," she groaned at the mention of the stranger, "don't remind me."

He squeezed her shoulder and kissed her again. "You're too beautiful for your own good," he praised, causing her to laugh. Leisurely strolling by the food stalls, their conversation turned to what to eat. Not feeling up to heavy pasta dishes or sauces, Helen selected fresh bread, a few cheeses, tomatoes, fresh basil and thinly sliced prosciutto from various vendors. She turned down offers of wine though, opting for water instead.

Following the example of other families scattered about on the nearby park that ran thinly alongside the street, the couple selected a more private spot under tall cypress trees. The nausea that Helen had felt earlier did not reappear and she happily enjoyed her impromptu Italian repast with John.

The playful cries of three small children nearby caught their attention and they laughed as they watched the two little girls constantly ordering the little boy to catch the other one and not her. "Seven years old and he's already hen pecked," John joked, receiving a smack on his arm from his lover in response.

He frowned slightly as he noticed her try to suppress a small yawn. "Are you tired? Ready to return home?" It was early evening now and dusk would soon descend upon the festive setting within the hour.

Helen was feeling a little sleepy after the meal yet stubbornly wanted to prolong their stay. "Actually, what I would like would be dessert. How about sharing some cannolis with me from that stall over there?" she suggested, pointing to the colorful stand about 40 feet away. He grinned, leaning in to give her a kiss before telling her he'd be right back with her birthday dessert.

She stretched out her back, giving her head a little shake to wake herself up, and picked up the bouquet to smell its sweet scent again as she watched him walk over to the stand and chat with the vendor. Even after 126 years, John was still a strikingly handsome man. His long, lean form towered over most other men. While there was a little gray sprinkled in his dark hair and neatly trimmed beard, his face hadn't seemed to age all that much. It was so strange to think that after everything they had been through, everything they had put the other one through, that they had come full circle to start anew again. She was hopeless in love with him again and she knew without a doubt that he reciprocated her feelings. The old saying that first love was all powerful and unforgettable definitely applied to them.

So engrossed was she in her thoughts of her lover that she didn't hear the footsteps crunching behind her and was completely unprepared for the harsh hands that clamped around her mouth and waist as she was drag into the trees behind her.

Picking up the fresh pastries, John began walking back to Helen, and frowned as he discovered she was nowhere in sight. She had just been there a minute ago. Where in the world had she gone?


	25. Something Unexpected This Way Comes

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 25: Something Unexpected This Way Comes

Arriving back at the picnic spot where he had just seen Helen not a minute ago, John immediately realized something was wrong. The remains of their meal were still there and their glasses had been overturned to lie sideways on the ground. He placed the wrapped cannolis down on the ground as he called her name out. No reply came. Lying discarded nearby on the ground was the pair of rose leather slippers Helen had coveted earlier. He grabbed a hold of them and shoved them into his left pocket. Alarm bells were going off his Druitt's brain and his head quickly swiveled around looking for clues as he went into hunter mode. Stepping closer to the trees he made out broken branches along the bottom of the cypress trees and began moving forward like a bloodhound stalking its prey.

Less than 300 feet away, Helen was struggling against her captor, whose large hands were clamped on her mouth and waist like a vise. Her hands flailed as she sought to strike at the unseen person. When she was unable to make sufficient contact, Helen bucked hard backward, striking the person in the chin with her head. A hissing cry preceded her abrupt release as both bodies collapsed to the ground. She fell hard onto her left wrist, crying out in pain, and managed to drag herself a few feet away before a hand wrapped around her foot and dragged her back.

"Let me go!" she yelled, kicking her feet as she tried to grab a hold of anything within reach. Her right hand wrapped around a rock and as the person went to grab her arm she swung back and struck him in the head. He gave out a high piercing shriek and stumbled backward, releasing his hold on her. She took the opportunity to pull her body up tighter and roll over to face her captor.

"You!" Helen gasped in disbelief, staring at the stranger who had come on to her earlier. She couldn't believe that she, Helen Magnus, been kidnapped by an amorous idiot. For goodness sakes, she was the ex-fiancée of Jack the Ripper and, as psychotic as John had been, he had never kidnapped her in an amorous fit. And yet here was this ridiculous suitor assuming he'd get away with that very thing. "What do you think you're doing?"

The man wiped at his bleeding nose with the back of his sleeve and gave her a creepy grin. "I am Franco," he introduced himself with a stiff bow, pleased that he finally had her attention. "And I am going to have my way with you," he announced as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

"The hell you are," Helen retorted scooting back a bit until her back was up against a tree trunk. Her left wrist was throbbing in pain and she kept it pressed against her stomach. "Did your mother not teach you any manners when it comes to wooing a woman?" she asked sarcastically as she took stock of their location. They were in a small clearing and behind Franco an old, stone structure raised 2 stories high with a partially destroyed chimney on one side. In the far distance she could just make out the roofs of a few taller buildings from the city. Now that she had her bearings, Helen refocused her attention back on her kidnapper.

Franco had seated himself on a nearby rock and was leering at her. "Mamma left when I was much younger, after she taught me to hunt for myself."

"Hunt?" Helen repeated, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling in alarm. "Like for wild boars and deer?" She slowly and awkwardly started to stand, using her right arm to help guide her up. The cursed volume of her gown made it a little more difficult to upright herself, particularly since she was sure her left wrist was badly sprained and of little use to her right now.

"Among other things," he smirked and stared at her like she was the most delicious thing he'd ever laid his eyes on.

Helen's eyes widened as she stared at his eyes. They were more an unusual shade of green-yellow… they flickered now and then as if Franco had an extra transparent eyelid that closed over his eyes protectively. "What are you?" she asked as she racked her mind for an abnormal that fit Franco's description.

He stood up and moved closer, sniffing the air. "Nothing you have ever seen before, my pretty."

"Oh you'd be surprised what I've seen," she replied as she fisted up her right hand. She didn't have a weapon on her, feeling it was unnecessary to carry one when she had John with her and she really regretted that decision at this very moment. Not knowing how close John was to locating her, Helen's only option seemed to be fighting unarmed.

Franco moved closer, continuing to sniff. "Not like me. I am special, I am," he insisted as he flicked a forked tongue out of his mouth and closed his eyes briefly. Helen moved quickly to her left and was stopped as the stranger swiftly mimicked her movements. "Your scent… it is most intoxicating," he almost purred and smiled at her again.

Helen's stomach began getting queasy again as she watched Franco's tongue flicker out over his bottom teeth once more. The tongue, added to the man's round head, flat wide nose and eye color, reminded her of a Kimono lizard. He certainly had the strength of one. And as she observed him closer, she also noted that his skin seemed rather sallow and patchy.

"John, where the hell are you?" she wondered as the abnormal moved closer. He was going to strike soon, she could feel it.

"I have never smelled anything quite like your scent," he said almost reverently. "You are a most beautiful young woman and yet… yet you smell older, much older than you appear." His head was weaving slowly back and forth as he sniffed the air. The tongue flickered out again and he smacked his lips as it retreated. "Most intriguing indeed."

"Do you always hunt humans?" she asked, hoping to stall him in order to give John time to locate them. She had no doubt that he was on their trail.

Franco shook his head. "No, too much trouble. Mostly just wild animals here and there. I only hunt the rare occasional human that strikes my fancy." His hand suddenly shot out and tried to touch her face, causing her to jerk back and block his hand with her fist. "That's not nice," he admonished her, sneering at her frightened look.

"Don't touch me," she snarled back.

"No one tells Franco what to do," he barked back and grabbed at her. She was able to hit him in the ribs with her elbow before he roughly grabbed hold of her right hand. They began to struggle against one another and, despite her bulky dress, she managed to kick him hard in the calf then up in the crotch. Franco roared in pain and lost his hold on her.

Nearby, Druitt heard the roar and spun around 360 degrees as he tried to judge where it came from. It was close but the woods were becoming more dense and darker as night was approaching. Time was becoming of the essence and he returned to the path he had been following, coming to a halt 20 feet later as a bright item caught his eye. Quickly moving forward, he reached down and picked the red item up – Helen's bouquet. They had come this way. Growling, he tossed the flowers aside and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out his old reliable companion. He flicked the release which would spring the blade to life and bounded forward, anger boiling in his blood. Whoever took her was going to be very, very sorry.

Helen dodged past the abnormal and ran to her right towards the stone structure. Perhaps if she got inside she could barricade herself in until John arrived. She had almost reached the door when she was suddenly jerked back by the waist. Sharp pain descended upon her left arm as Franco sank his fangs into her upper arm area. Helen screamed in agony and was able to strike at his head with her right fist twice before he released her. She collapsed to her knees and pitched forward to the ground. Her right hand clamped down on the freely bleeding wound, from which a burning sensation was starting to radiate. Tears poured down her cheeks as she rolled onto her right side and pulled herself up against the stone wall.

The sight before her mirrored her own pain. Her blood dripping down his mouth, Franco was hissing and spitting out into the air, as if he had tasted something most foul. "What, what are you!" he hissed and spat again.

She had pulled her torn shawl off her shoulders and was wrapping her arm tightly to stop the blood flow. "I'm an abnormal, like you." Lightheadedness hit her and she leaned her head back against the stone as she stared at her attacker. The blood loss was affecting her but she suspected that some sort of toxin from the abnormal's bite was the bigger problem. The burning sensation in her arm was spreading throughout her body.

He had never experienced such a strong metallic taste as her blood before. It curdled his tongue and he only wanted to get the taste out of his mouth as soon as possible. She looked like a fairly young woman, only in her 30s, yet she tasted so much older. Older than anything he had ever tasted before. He smacked his mouth loudly twice more and then spat again. "You are with child!" he said in utter disgust. "It's tainted your blood, made you taste… old?" he said in confusion.

"I am old!" she gasped out in pain.

He looked at her then, her words finally sinking in. "You are an abnormal, like me?"

Helen looked up at him, stunned at his earlier words. Did he just say she was with child? Before she could reply they heard John yell her name from very close by. "John!" she yelled as loudly as she could. She was feeling weaker by the minute, the toxin probably taking hold.

"Your mate has tracked us," Franco proclaimed in shock, turning around just in time to hear John push through a thick clump of trees. He would be upon them soon. "How? No one has ever found me before."

"He's an abnormal too," she explained, "a very, very dangerous one. You made a very fatal mistake taking me." She forced herself to yell John's name again as her strength continued to seep away.

At that moment, Druitt flew through the last of the trees and stopped momentarily to take in the scene before him. Helen was collapsed upon the ground, leaning against the stone building. Her attacker stood a few feet away from her… and there was blood on his face. Glancing quickly back at her, Druitt saw how pale she was and that she was cradling her arm which was now wrapped in her shawl.

"Helen," John cried out, teleporting immediately to her. Kneeling by her side, he cradled her face with his hand. Fear gripped him as he saw how weak she appeared. Turning back to the other man, Druitt snarled, "What did you do to her?"

The sight of the taller man's teleporting ability had frozen Franco to the spot he stood in. Fear raced through his body as he saw the murderous look on the man's face. "What are you?" Franco asked in a terrified whisper. He had never seen anyone or anything move the way the tall man named John could move. The woman wasn't able to move this way and had seemed completely normal until he had tasted her spoiled blood.

Standing upright, head tilted down so that his eyes were focused fiercely on his opponent, Druitt moved his right hand out from his body so that the dimming light of dusk reflected off of his blade. "I am the man that is going to kill you," he announced in a dead hush that made the blood inside Franco run cold… well figuratively. As part reptile his blood was already colder than a pure human's.

Franco spun to run the other way only to find the other man suddenly standing before him, his face twisted in rage. Before he could move, he felt a sharp stabbing of a blade sink into his chest and an arm wrap around his neck in a crushing hold.

From her spot on the ground Helen heard the scuffle and Franco's strangled cry as John dispatched him. Opening her eyes, she found she was looking at the abnormal's back and John's incensed face as he looked down upon the creature he was killing. "John," she called out weakly, trying to get his attention.

The only thing Druitt could hear was the pounding of blood in his head as his anger consumed him. He could feel the last of life flowing from Helen's attacker and stared into its unusual eyes as they emptied of any consciousness. He pulled his blade out of the creature as he released his hold around its neck, allowing the body to fall to the ground in a loud thump. His breath was coming fast as he tried to regain control over his anger.

Hearing his name being yelled, John refocused his vision and saw Helen looking at him.

"Help me," she whispered weakly before darkness overtook her.

Helen's body slumping over sideway snapped him out of his trance. He rushed back to her side as he flicked his blade closed and put it back into his pocket. She was not the fainting type. "Helen!" Dropping to his knees, he cradled her face in his hands and called her name again. No response. He felt for her pulse on her neck and was alarmed to discover how weak it was. She was also warmer and paler than before. Nightfall was upon them now and he had to squint hard to make out the blood stains on her shawl. Quickly, he lifted her limp body into his arms and teleported them away.

James Watson had just returned from a tedious meeting with a wealthy banker who wanted his help in discrediting a suitor for the hand of a young woman both wanted. Watson had barely allowed the fop to complete his request before he politely but firmly turned him down and left. That was an hour of my life I'll never get back he thought in annoyance as he went to sit down in his favorite wing chair and reached for his glass of brandy. A pair of paws landed on his lap and he reached over to scratch the head of his English bulldog, Winston. "You are worth a thousand of those ridiculously wealthy fops," he announced affectionately to his faithful pet.

Unexpectedly, Winston yelped and scurried under the side table. Turning his head, James took in the sight of John standing in the middle of the library. In his arms was the limp body of Helen with her head dangling unconscious. The hand that Druitt had wrapped around her shoulder was bloodied and the look on his face was haunted. "Help me!" he cried as he moved toward him.

The blood drained from Watson's face. Leaping up, he grabbed the back of chair as he stared horrified at Helen's body. "My God, John, what have you done?"


	26. Reviving Helen Part I

Author's note: I have no idea how one would treat an abnormal lizard's bite or the raging fever that comes with it. Please ignore any medical inaccuracies in this chapter.

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 26: Reviving Helen Part I

The blood drained from Watson's face. Leaping up, he grabbed the back of the chair as he stared horrified at Helen's body. "My God, John, what have you done?"

"Help me!" he repeated desperately as he came to stand before Watson. "She won't respond and her pulse is weak." His form seemed to positively be shaking with fear.

James placed a hand on her neck and found a pulse, confirming what Druitt said, it was weak. What bothered him even more was how very warm her skin was. That wasn't normal. "What did you do to her?" Watson demanded, glaring at his best friend in anger.

John glared back as he shifted her weight in his arms. "I didn't this to her, you idiot. She was attacked by an abnormal. Now are you going to help me or are you going to just stand there and accuse me of something I didn't do?"

James's eyes narrowed and he stared down at Helen's pale face. "An abnormal? What kind of abnormal?"

"I don't know! Can we argue about this after you treat her?" Druitt barked. Really, James could be the most pedantic twit when he chose to be.

Motioning his head upward, James replied, "Get her upstairs into the guest room. I'll fetch my medical bag and follow." He ignored the red flare signifying Druitt's departure as he bounded out of the library and into the hallway, where he whipped the hallway door open and reached in to grab his black bag. Watson bounded nosily up the stairs two steps at a time and burst through the guest bedroom door with a bang as the door swung back and hit the wall.

Helen was lying atop the bedspread with John leaning over her repeatedly trying to wake her up. He had been lightly shaking her to no avail. He dared not shake her too hard, worried about the blood on her wrapped arm.

"Move," James ordered, pushing him aside and tossing his bag up onto the bedside table. Leaning forward, he began methodically inspecting Helen. She seemed even warmer than before but her pulse was a little stronger. Frowning, James noticed the shawl wrapped around her upper left arm. "Did you wrap her arm?"

John shook his head. "No, I think she must have done that. The abnormal had blood on his face when I found them."

"Tell me about that," James requested as he began to untie the shawl. There wasn't much doubt that dark spots were blood but whose? Helen's or the abnormal's?

Exhaling a nervous breath, John paced behind Watson as he explained about the abnormal's interest in Helen and how she had disappeared while he was getting her the dessert. "When I found them, she was collapsed on the ground, leaning against a stone building, and the creature was standing a few feet away with blood dripping down his mouth and neck. She was still conscious and was talking to me."

Tossing the shawl aside, James fingered the dark stains on her sleeve and felt two holes. "And then what happened?" he prompted as he dived into his bag and retrieved a pair of sharp scissors to cut away the sleeve of her gown.

John swiped at his face as he recalled the next horrible minutes. "Helen seemed to become weaker. When the abnormal asked me what I was, I looked up and saw her blood on him face again and became enraged. I attacked and killed it." He paused, and then continued in a cracked voice. "Afterwards, I heard her call out for me to help her and then she fell unconscious. I haven't been able to wake her since," he said with a sob. If she died because he had failed to protect her, he would never forgive himself. His only duty was to take care of her and he had failed.

James heard his friend's sob and blinked. It took a lot to crack Druitt's cool façade… but then Helen was his Achilles heel. Pulling the fabric away from her arm, he observed the dried blood and what appeared to be two swollen, red wounds. He grabbed a magnifying glass from his bag and positioned it over the wounds. "Did the creature have fangs?" he asked.

"Yes," John confirmed. "How did you know?"

"She has a pair of puncture wounds on her upper arm," Watson replied as he straightened up and dropped the magnifying glass back into the bag. He then pulled out gauze and a bottle of alcohol, doused the gauze with the liquid and quickly went about cleaning the wound.

Helen felt the burning sensation on her arm and her upper body jerked up as she cried out in pain. Her eyes flew open as her right hand grabbed at James' arm. "Stop," she moaned in anguish. Her vision was blurry and she felt as if her body were on fire.

John moved quickly onto the other side of the bed and sat down. "Helen," he called out to her, relieved that she'd finally regained consciousness.

"That's my girl," Watson encouraged as he poured more alcohol on clean gauze and continued to clean her wounds, ignoring the weak hand that tried to stop him. "Wake up, Helen. I need you to tell me what happened." Done with that task, he threw the soiled gauze into the trash bin near the bed and turned back to his patient, whose eyes were closed again. "Helen," he barked, "wake up!" Placing his hand on her neck he noted her pulse was continuing to get stronger but her flesh felt extremely hot.

Helen's eyes opened feebly. "I'm awake," she muttered as she tried to focus on the face closely peering at her. "James?" she asked in surprise.

"Hello, darling," he greeted grimly. "It's been a while. Gotten yourself into a bit of a sticky wicket, I see."

Snorting at that, she exhaled a loud breath. "Nice to see you too. Where's John?"

"Here," he replied, leaning over to touch her face. "You're hot," he complained with a frown and shot a worried look at Watson.

"Too hot," James agreed. "She's burning up with fever."

Breathing hard, Helen groaned, "Franco's bite. I think it had a toxin in it…" She began clawing at her throat with her right hand. "So hot," she moaned. The toxin was battling with her vampire infused blood, causing her body to be inflamed with fever.

"Get her undressed," James ordered the other man. "I'm going to fill up the bath. We need to get her fever down now." He rushed out of the room, leaving the couple alone.

John quickly began unbuttoning her gown as he murmured to her, "You're going to be alright, luv, I promise." Her agitation was making it difficult to remove the gown but he finally managed it.

Helen thrashed her head and began pushing down on her corset, trying to free herself from it. Her fever was causing delirium and her eyes were burning as well. "Can't breathe," she moaned.

"Okay, luv," he tried to reassure her, pulling on the ties to work the corset off. He could see by the way she was unable to keep her eyes focused and her tossing her head in agitation that she was delirious from the fever.

"We can't breathe," she repeated. Her upper body undulated up as she gasped for air. "Take it off," she cried and her hands pushed at the corset again just as Druitt was finally able to pull it free.

James had reappeared by their side, trying his best to stare only above her neckline and not below at her combinations. "We can't breathe? Who is we?" he asked in confusion.

John froze. We? His mind immediately went to the thought of the energy elemental that had tormented him for over a century. Had the abnormal that bit her somehow infected her… or worse, somehow placed a parasite inside her. "Helen, who is we?" he asked wearily, praying that no other abnormal was involved.

She tossed her head again and tried to push down the top part of her combinations. John caught her hands, preventing her from revealing too much. "We," she cried. "Me… the baby… so hot!"

Both men froze. "Baby?" Watson repeated and looked quickly over to his friend who had a dazed look upon his face. "John?"

The tall man's face paled and he shook his head. Their daughter was dead. She must be confused about where she was and was hallucinating that she was pregnant with Ashley.

"Help us!" she cried, trying to pull her hands free from John's grip.

"We need to move her into the water," James instructed. "Her fever is spiking."

Scooping her up, John quickly moved them into the hall bathroom and slowly lowered himself down onto his knees as he tried his best to gently put her into the bath of warm water, which wasn't an easy task given her flailing against him.

Helen squealed loudly as she felt herself sinking into warm water and grabbed at John's shirt. "No, John!" she gasped, clinging to him. "Don't let us drown!" Her head was on fire and her eyes rolled back into her head as dizziness hit her.

Leaning his neck forward in order to prevent her from strangling him with her tight grip on his shirt collar, John kept one arm underneath her and used the other to move the water over her form. "Helen, I am not going to let you drown. I'm just trying to lower your body temperature." He snorted out a loud breath in surprise as a wash cloth suddenly struck him in the forehead before falling in the water.

Watson, with his back to them, had thrown the towel at him. "Make sure to wet down her face and head particularly. Get her to cool down as best you can. We should only leave her in the water for 5-10 minutes at most."

John dunked the cloth into the water and began wiping her face with it. Sputtering, Helen let one hand go of his collar and tried to block the wash cloth. "Stop it!" she ordered as she splashed water around. He squinted one eye shut and made a "thhrpt!" sound as he spit out water as she continued to splash him in the face. "Helen, luv," he pleaded through grit teeth, "just relax." He dipped the cloth back into the water and held it up over her head.

She groaned and muttered "No!" like a spoiled child, then shrieked as he squeezed the wash cloth tight to rain water down over her head. John groaned in annoyance and continued raining water over her head and face. "Calm down, please!" he begged.

Standing in front of the doorway, James rolled his eyes and sighed. So much drama over a short soak in the bath. Mrs. Havers appeared on the other side of the doorway, having heard the commotion downstairs and becoming concerned over the woman's shrieks. "Do you need some help, Dr. Watson?"

A prayer, a gag and perhaps some rope would be of help James thought unkindly but kept it to himself. "A dressing gown would be helpful, Mrs. Havers. Our guest is feverish and we're trying to bring down her temperature," he explained calmly, ignoring John's sudden swearing as Helen yanked him forward into the bath, soaking his shirt and ripping the top two buttons off. The housekeeper's brows shot up at the noise and she gave her employer a most alarmed look. "Hurry," Watson requested. She scurried away quickly down the stairs. "John, how's her temperature?" he inquired over his shoulder.

Panting, John leaned back on his knees and stretched out the best he could without disturbing her. His back was killing him from leaning over and the arm underneath her was cramping. He grabbed a nearby towel and gently wiped the water away from her face. Her eyes were closed, her breathing heavy like his and her body now relaxed in the water. A hand to her brow revealed that the fever had broken and was receding. "Much cooler," Druitt answered in a relieved tone.

"Thank God," James muttered. Any more of this drama and he was going to need some drugs himself. It had been a good while since he'd chased the dragon but his two best friends were seriously making him want to revisit his nasty habit. And never in his wildest dreams did he think he'd be dealing with two Helens and all their dramas at the same time. If this was what it would be like to have a wife and a mistress at the same time he'd pass, thank you very much. Not that Helen in either form was currently occupying such positions in his life.

John shivered slightly as his wet skin reacted to the wicking of heat from his body. A good portion of his upper body was drenched and he was starting to feel the pin prickling sensation in the arm underneath her body which came when one's limb went to sleep. He peered back down at his lover. Her breathing, like his, was now slowing down and becoming more even. Her eyes were closed and with her red hair and white combinations flowing about her body she reminded him of Millais's painting of Ophelia drowning, though her hands were not lifted upright like the painting. He had made sure to keep her head and ears above the water as much as possible.

Noticing she was starting to shiver, John lifted her upper body from the water and wrapped her in the towel. Opening her eyes weakly to glare at him, she mumbled "I hate you. Just so you know" through chattering teeth.

Giving a harsh, soft laugh, he responded, "I love you too," as he reached for more towels. "Let's get you dried off." He then lifted her out of the water, placed her gently onto the rug and began covering her with towels.

Mrs. Havers reappeared with a dark, long robe. Watson thanked her and requested hot chamomile tea to be delivered to the guest room. Staring up at the ceiling, he took three steps into the room and held out the gown. "I'm going to light the fire in the bedroom." After Druitt took the gown, he left the room, pulling the door closed behind him to give them some privacy.

John set to work roughly drying off her shaking body and pulled off her combinations. "So cold," she chattered, holding the towels tight against herself. Helen groaned unhappily as he pulled the towels away to slip the robe around her. Both exhaled a deep breath and reclined against one another, their foreheads touching. "You scared the hell out of me," he uttered softly, giving her a tight squeeze.

"Ditto," she answered. Her head was pounding and her stomach wasn't feeling so great either. John had draped a dry towel over her head which came down almost to her eyes. She reached her good arm back to pull out the pins holding back what had been perfect curls. Her hair now was just a tangled mess of long curls sticking up everywhere and pins dropped haphazardly about onto the floor.

"Let's get you into bed," he said, leaning back to stand. He scooped her up into his arms, kicking the towels aside to make a path to the door. The bathroom was a disaster with water, wet clothes and towels everywhere.

Resting her head against his shoulder, she sighed. "That's the way this night was supposed to end."

He laughed softly in return. "Yeah, I don't think either of us is up for any extracurricular activities tonight." He pried the door open with one hand and walked them across the hall into the bedroom. The bed covers had been pulled back and a fire was crackling in the fireplace in anticipation of their arrival.

Author's note: Part II will be posted in the next day or two…. Ah, the suspense. Will she spill the beans or won't she? Hee hee.


	27. Reviving Helen part II

Author's Note: Posting this earlier than I expected to for alwayssmilingsam because she makes me laugh. Hope you like Watson in this chapter.

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 27: Reviving Helen part II

Helen felt herself being lowered down onto the bed and the covers quickly pulled back over her. John straightened the towel behind her damp head to cover the pillow and placed his large palm to her forehead once more. She was still warm but some color had returned to her face.

"How is your shoulder feeling?" James asked as he quickly entered the room, dropping one of his robes onto John's shoulder as he made his way over to her. He also felt her forehead and nodded, pleased that her temperature had dropped to a more reasonable warmth.

"Throbbing," she complained, "as is my head. But at least my stomach has stopped churning." Frankly, she felt like she'd been tossed about on a very bumpy roller coaster… and then slammed into the ground like road kill.

He eyed her robe. "I, um, want to take another look at the wound on your upper arm. Can you remove the robe off your shoulder or do you need John's help?"

"I can do it," she answered, grimacing as she scooted herself upward a bit onto the headboard.

While she removed the robe off her left side, James discreetly turned his back to her and looked over at his other friend, who had removed his damp shirt and had shrugged on the dark robe. It was a good thing he'd had an oversized one in the closet. "By the way, happy birthday," he called over his shoulder.

"Thanks," she said with a small laugh. "I'd like to say it's been great but being kidnapped and bit by a half-human, half-lizard abnormal put a kibosh on that."

"Did the creature say why he took you?" James asked. It seemed that no matter where one of them went they were bound to run into an abnormal of some kind, even if they weren't looking for one.

John piped up while Helen frowned as she recalled her abduction by Franco. "He found her attractive, that's why he took her."

Watson nodded. That was understandable. Not hearing any more rustling coming from the bed area, he turned back to her. She had the left side of her upper body undressed with the bed covers pulled up high to her armpit.

"That wasn't why he took me, well, not the main reason," she explained as James sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned forward to stare at her wounds. Her skin was still paler than normal, making the two reddish-purple puncture wounds stand out more. Yellow bruising circled the punctures and there were other yellow bruises along her arm where the creature had grabbed her. He also noticed that she cradled her wrist to her stomach. "Did you hurt your wrist?" he asked with a frown.

"I think I sprained it when I tried to escape," she said and cringed when he felt around her hand.

"No bones broken," he reported. "Just badly sprained and swollen."

"That's what I told you," she complained and glared at him grumpily. "I am a doctor, you know. I can diagnose a sprained wrist."

"So you like to remind everyone. Still a bit touchy about that, are you my dear?" The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. She was still as feisty as always. "I like the red hair," he commented, "though you do look a bit like a drowned Irish Setter with all the wet curls."

Behind him John rolled his eyes. "You would focus on the red hair." He gave Helen a disgruntled glare and she knew exactly why he was put out. She had had red hair during the 1940s when she had been romantically involved with James. Not that this young version of Watson knew that. He and the Helen of his timeline would not yet become lovers for some time. Well, it was John's own damn fault she ended up with James for a time she thought and glared back at him.

James noticed the silent exchange between the two due to his comment – John's darkened look and Helen's amused smirk – and furrowed his brows. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she replied, "Ignore him. I do. He's just pouting."

"Over what?" James asked, looking back at Druitt for clarification.

John pursed his lips and looked away. "It's nothing. I believe you're supposed to be treating her wound," he grumpily reminded the sleuth.

James rolled his eyes. "Whatever." God they were royal pains in his arse. "I want to wrap some gauze around the bite marks. And you still haven't told us why the creature… Franco I believe you called him… abducted you." He pulled a roll of gauze out of his medical bag and began to wrap her arm.

"He was intrigued by my smell," she said. "He said it was intoxicating, like nothing he had every smelled before." She frowned at James when he started chuckling. "What's so funny?" she demanded, to which he just shook his head and chuckled some more as he finished wrapping her shoulder and reached back into his bag for bandaging for her wrist.

Druitt, on the other hand, had observed the creature up close and didn't find her explanation funny. "Did he say why he was drawn to your smell? It seemed to me that he was staring at you more out of lust than anything."

"Oh, he was lusting something alright. My blood," she continued bluntly. All three looked up when they heard a sharp gasp by the doorway. The housekeeper was standing there holding a tea tray and wearing a startled look on her face.

James finished wrapping her wrist and pinned it in place. He then stood up and removed his medical bag from the bedside table. "Put the tea tray here if you please, Mrs. Havers." He didn't bother to explain the conversation she had overheard and Mrs. Havers didn't bother to ask, having been employed with him long enough to know better. He would just come up with some crazy explanation with the purpose of confusing or annoying her anyway if she did bother to ask.

Helen ducked her face as the housekeeper came closer, using her hair to hide her face from the older woman. Mrs. Havers was well acquainted with Dr. Magnus and Helen didn't want any questions regarding her resemblance to the younger version of herself. From the corner of her eye, she could see James smirking his knowing look at her. John had turned his back to them and faced the window, not so much to avoid the housekeeper's observation as to hide his grumpy countenance. He was still annoyed about the reminder that James had at one time been Helen's lover.

"Do you need anything else, my dear," the kind housekeeper asked Helen. She saw the bandaged wound on the lady's upper arm and, given Dr. Watson's detective work, assumed the woman was a victim he was trying to help. Following Helen's murmured decline, the housekeeper nodded at Watson, who thanked her, and left the room, pulling the door closed behind her. She didn't want to hear any more about some man lusting after the wounded woman's blood Mrs. Havers thought as she rushed downstairs to check on the roast for tomorrow's meal.

Watson moved to pour them some tea, handing Helen her cup first. "Why your blood? Could he smell the Source Blood? And if so, why didn't he go after John?" Turning to Druitt, he recanted as he took in John's big figure. "Strike that. I know why he didn't take Big Foot here," he cheekily said and gave John a smirk as he handed him his cup. "Although of the two of you I'd say Johnny boy here would be the smellier one." He gave John a fake sweet smile following that comment.

"Oh, shut up!" John snarked and tromped back over to sit on the bed by Helen's waist and sip his tea. It had been a long, horrible evening and he was not in a joking mood.

"What?" James continued to cajole the larger man. "I would think that if I were a fanged, half-human half-lizard creature that I would find the ripe smell of eau de big foot far more tantalizing than eau de pretty female." He made a show of winking at Druitt in front of her and got the reaction he was hoping for and then some.

Helen burst out laughing, spitting her tea out all over John's face and upper body. Her right hand flew up over her mouth as she tried to stop laughing. "Oh John, I am so sorry!" she apologized, still giggling.

John swiped at his face with the sleeve of his robe and turned a death glare upon his best friend who merely brightened and smiled back at him. "Now, now," Watson tssked at him as he came to stand by Helen, "you're supposed to be a reformed psychopath, remember? It's no good to be thinking of the many ways you can get even," he cheekily reprimanded Druitt. "Besides, laughter is the best medicine and I'd say our Helen is doing better, correct?"

He smiled down at her, picked up the teapot and asked, "More tea?" She nodded, starting to giggle again.

"You are both pains in my backside," John grumbled and finished off the reminder in his teacup.

James grinned. "Aw, we love you too," he said overly sweetly as he took her cup and refilled it.

That prompted Helen to giggle some more, then cry out and grab her arm when she jarred it too much. "Ow!" she groaned.

"Serves you right," Druitt snarked at her and instantly regretted it.

"Hey, it's still my birthday," she reminded him as she took the cup back. "Don't be mean." She lifted the warm cup to her lips and took a deep sip. Her strength was starting to wane again and, though the pounding in her head was residing, she really just wanted to sleep.

James recognized the exhaustion in her face and knew he had better get on with his line of questioning before she fell asleep. "You were saying about the abnormal's interest in your blood?" he reminded her.

She finished off her tea and handed the cup back to Watson. "I don't think Franco sensed the Source Blood. I think he sensed that I was not of this timeline because after he bit me he recoiled from the taste and began complaining that I tasted a lot older than I looked."

James and John looked at one another and began laughing in unison, garnering a disgruntled look from her. "So he thought you were a bit overripe, did he now?" John teased, causing Watson to burst out laughing again.

"Are you two quite finished," she asked indignantly. Honestly, they could be such children sometimes. She had forgotten how silly they could be when they got together.

"Quite," James answered, failing to suppress another laugh. "So, the creature thought you tasted old and then what? Did he decide he was going to continue to snack on you or was he going to release you?"

Helen clamped a hand to her mouth as she yawned loudly. "I don't know. It all seemed to happen so fast. Franco was complaining about how I tasted older than I looked, older than anything else he'd ever experienced and then he spat again in disgust and accused me of being with…" Her eyes got large as she recalled exactly what the creature had said.

Both men noticed the paling of her face and the frightened look that overcame her features.

"What did Franco accuse you of being?" James questioned as he observed the way she was looking at John. Whatever it was had to be huge for it to cause this kind of reaction he reasoned.

She opened her mouth to answer, clamped it closed, looked from John to James then back to John, and startled them both when her eyes began to water. "He said I was… that I was," she stuttered as a large tear began to run down her cheek.

"Helen, what's wrong?" John asked, reaching for her hand. He was surprised to find it shaking as he enclosed it in his grasp.

She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that refused to abate and sniffed. Was she really pregnant? Had the creature been right?

"Helen?" she heard John call to her in distress. "Whatever it is it will be alright," he tried to reassure her. "Just tell us."

She cringed. "He said I have a child," she whispered. She waited for their reaction. When none came, she opened one eye to stare at John, who was staring back at her with a sadden expression.

After a moment of silence, Watson interrupted. "Okay, obviously I'm missing something. One of you want to fill me in?"

John gave her hand a squeeze. "We had a daughter. She's not with us anymore," he softly shared.

Eyes widening with realization, Watson gulped hard and pressed a hand to his chest. Helen's child had died? The child she had gone to extremes to protect? John's hunched body posture and long face confirmed the unpleasant news. He turned his sharp gaze back onto Helen and became worried by her exhausted state. There were dark shadows underneath her eyes. "You should get some rest now," he suggested and dug into his medical bag, pulling out a small vial and needle. "This should help you sleep," he said gently as he drew the liquid into the needle.

Helen's eyes flew open. "What? No! I can't take that. Didn't you hear me? I'm with child!" she cried, shrinking back into the pillow in alarm.

James stopped what he was doing to gape at her. "With child? I thought we were talking about a child that passed?" He looked back at John, whose mouth had dropped.

"We were, weren't we?" John asked, confused. "You're talking about Ashley, aren't you, Helen?"

Slowly, she shook her head. "Not Ashley," she said so softly that both men could barely make it out. She and John locked eyes while James loudly placed the needle and vial onto the table.

"Helen, are you pregnant?" James asked hesitantly.

"Maybe," she answered, unable to take her eyes off of John's shocked face.

"Maybe?" John repeated, unable to take his eyes off her frightened face.

"Possibly," she responded, unsure of what to make of John's reaction. Was he happy about the news? Horrified? Confused?

"Maybe? Possibly?" Watson repeated in a monotone. His mind whirled with the unexpected news. What were the two thinking? A child? "Right," he muttered, turning to Druitt, "You selfish son of a bitch!"

John barely heard James before his head exploded in pain and he was knocked off the bed. The last thing he heard was Helen's shriek as he struck the floor and everything went black.


	28. Little Girl Lost

Author's note: There's a little bit of strong language in this angsty chapter. Emotions are flying high. And in Helen's case, the early stages of raging hormones.

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 28: Little Girl Lost

John barely heard James before his head exploded in pain and he was knocked off the bed. The last thing he heard was Helen's shriek as he struck the floor and everything went black.

"John!" Helen cried as she watched him fall onto the floor and hit his head. She pushed down the covers to get off the bed to go check on him.

"Stay right where you are!" James ordered, groaning and clutching his right hand to his chest. "Damn it," he thought to himself as he could feel his hand throbbing and already beginning to swell. He probably just broke his hand knocking the big ox flat.

"Why did you do that?" she demanded, leaning slightly over to the side to look down at her lover. She heard him groan and was relieved to see that he was reviving already.

Stunned, John had opened his unfocused eyes and reached a hand up slowly to his face.

"Because he deserved it," Watson roared. "Just like you deserved to be put over my knee and spanked. What the hell are you two thinking, having a baby?"

Loud footsteps could be heard rushing down the hall and the door swung open to reveal the concerned figures of Langley and Mrs. Havers. She gasped as she looked around the room. The tall man was struggling to sit upright on the floor, Dr. Watson's face was red and he was nursing his right hand, and the woman in the bed, though she had quickly ducked her head when they entered, appeared to have been crying. "Is everything alright, Dr. Watson?" Langley asked as he stared down at the large man sitting on the floor. This man, John, was a frequent visitor to the Watson household and seemed to come and go of his own will. None of the household help ever recalled letting him in or out of the house.

"No, it is not all right," James shook his head. "We require some ice. Be so good as to fetch the ice and some towels," he coolly ordered as he glared down at Druitt, who was cradling his cheek and glaring back up at him. There was silence as the dismissed servants left the room and had closed the door behind them.

"You want to tell me why the hell you did that?" Druitt growled. Under his hand he could feel the tenderness and heat that signified the oncoming of a large, bruised swelling.

"Because someone needed to knock a reminder into you that you are wrongfully here in this timeline. You are not supposed to be altering the future for your own purposes!" Watson growled back. He looked back to Helen and glared at her too. "Him," James indicated with the motion of his head, "I can understand wanting to change the future. But you, Helen, you should know better."

"You think I did this on purpose?" she asked, appalled that he would think she was capable of being so selfish that she would deliberately tamper with her own history. "That I purposely got myself pregnant?" She pointed at John. "That he purposely got me pregnant?"

John snorted as he stood up, swaying slightly at first. "That's absurd. We are over one hundred sixty years old. Why would we possibly think we could produce another child?"

Bugger, James thought, where were those servants with the ice? He felt along his swollen hand to determine if he had broken his right hand when he belted the big lummox in the head. "Maybe because you are both over one hundred sixty years old and still alive," he retorted. "Pure vanity. You both know that your child dies in the future and you have decided to create a replacement."

"Get out," Helen ordered in a tight, angry voice.

Both men stopped their arguing and focused on the upset red head. "Helen, I…," James said, suddenly ashamed of his outburst. She was recovering from a recent attack by a deadly abnormal and here he was yelling at her.

"I said get out!" Helen yelled, tears streaming down her cheeks. When John started towards her she turned her anger onto him. "You too. Both of you. Just get out!" She rolled onto her right side to sob into her pillow. Her emotions had become too strong for her to keep under control. The mentions of Ashley and her death overwhelmed her. The moment of her only child's death began replaying in Helen's head over and over again.

James hung his head as John turned a furious glare on him. "Way to go, Sherlock. Happy now? Perhaps there's a puppy you want to kick too?" Watson raised his head to glare back at Druitt only to feel the unusual tugging sensation as John teleported them away. They arrived in the library where John roughly shoved his best friend into a wing chair and began to pace back and forth in front of him.

"I should drop you off the top of Big Ben," he snarled as he came to a stop in front of Watson and placed his hands on his waist. "What were you thinking, yelling at her like that?"

Watson sighed and rested his head against the back of his chair. "I lost my temper. I shouldn't have done that. It's just…"

"Just what?" John demanded. They were interrupted by a knock on the door and the entrance of Langley carrying two ice packs and hand towels. The manservant had been about to go upstairs when he heard the loud voices coming from the library and decided to investigate. He hadn't heard the two men come down but then again Dr. Watson had the ability to move about quickly without a sound. Those that worked for him had to get used to the doctor's suddenly turning up here and there with little forewarning. Langley withdrew gratefully from the room following his employer's dismissal. The tension in that room was highly unpleasant.

John flopped into the other wing chair and hissed at the cold as he held the ice pack against his cheek. He didn't need a mirror to tell him that his right cheek was a swollen mosaic of purple, yellow and red. Beside him, James grimaced as he held his ice pack against his swollen and bruised hand. The two exchanged grumpy glances.

Recognizing the irony of the situation, James remarked, "Look at us. This would be humorous if Helen weren't crying upstairs."

"Your fault," John quickly pointed out.

James nodded, temper completely deflated. "My fault."

Surprised that Watson had capitulated so easily, John asked, "Why did you lose your temper upstairs? Why does it matter to you that Helen's pregnant?" He suspected it was jealousy on his friend's part that induced him to throw his temper tantrum and he wanted the satisfaction of hearing James admit it.

Gulping hard, James stared off for a bit composing his thoughts. Finally he answered. "The new pregnancy, if Helen is indeed pregnant, is not really the problem. It's the first pregnancy that set my teeth on edge."

John's brow furrowed. "Why? Because you weren't the father?"

James pursed his lips petulantly. Helen's choosing John over him was still a sore spot, though he had been successful in keeping it hidden from her. Well, the younger version of her. He had no idea if the older counterpart was aware of his deep feelings for her. "No," he ground out. "I saw how difficult it was for Helen to postpone her pregnancy." He looked poignantly at his friend. "It torments her that she cannot have her child with her because of the danger the child's father presents." He got some childish satisfaction at seeing John's crestfallen face. "She carries on, holding her head up high, and pretends she doesn't remember that her child resides in limbo elsewhere. But it's always there… bubbling to the surface from time to time." Both men silently stared off for a few minutes contemplating those words.

"She delivered a child earlier this week when a neighbor's maid came to her for help. I had the pleasure of watching her hold another woman's child in her arms and start crying softly because it wasn't her own," Watson continued sadly. "It made me want to cry myself."

"Oh, bloody hell," Druitt muttered and lowered his face into his hands. He really hated being here, in this era. So many bad reminders, so much unnecessary pain… all because of that bloody energy elemental.

"Precisely," James agreed morosely.

Upstairs, Helen tossed restlessly in her sleep. The throbbing pain in her shoulder faded away as she was pulled further into her dream. She was entering her office followed by her long-time assistant and her old friend, all arguing over a recent capture. An important conference call to two of the other Sanctuary heads of house was about to take place and Helen needed to get her team back on track to focus on the call.

"There is no reason for destroying the abnormal," she insisted to Barney as she strode towards her desk. "It was just acting on instinct and trying to protect itself. It's secured in the SHU and of no threat to anyone now."

"And if it gets out and tries to sting us again?" Barney complained. His boss's zealousness for abnormal rights sometimes tended to blind her to the fact that many of them were extremely dangerous and perhaps a few should be destroyed for the better of all others. "We already have two of the team down in the infirmary recovering from the poisonous stings."

"Yeah, I'd rather not dodge that thing's stinger again," the Big Guy added in his gruff voice.

Helen rolled her eyes. "Well, unless it suddenly develops deposable thumbs, I doubt the creature will be able to work the keypad to open the door. I think we'll be okay as long as no one on the staff keys it free." She walked briskly around her desk and suddenly came to a stop at the unexpected sight before her.

On the other side of the desk, Barney saw the frown cross her face and placed his hands on the edge of the desk. "Magnus?"

"Ashley!" Helen said as she placed her hands on her hips impatiently, "What do you think you're doing, young lady?"

Laying on her stomach on the floor by Helen's chair, her six year old daughter had papers scattered on the floor and was busily coloring away with her box of 64 crayons. "Hi, mommy! I'm coloring," she grinned up at her mother.

"I can see that," her mother said dryly. "Why are you in here coloring and not upstairs in the nursery?"

"I'm a big girl now," the child proclaimed. "I don't want to be in the nursery anymore. I want to play down here with the adults."

"That's debatable," Helen answered and looked over at the Big Guy. "Who was assigned to watch over her today?"

Barney interrupted. "That would be Toshi. You know, one of our team members lying down in the infirmary recovering from a poisonous sting?"

She aimed an unfavorable frown at him. "I know who Toshi is, thank you."

"Magnus, the conference call," the Big Guy reminded her.

She began searching through the files on her desk. "I know, I know. I need the report in case the head of the Beijing House wants to go over the figures." She frowned as she searched through the files again. "It's not here."

"Uh oh," the Big Guy muttered, already guessing where the missing file went, and moved to the side of the desk to look down at the child.

Simultaneously, the same idea hit Helen and she straightened up to turn and look down at her errant daughter. "Where did you get that paper?" she asked in a tight voice.

"From your desk," the child answered, completely oblivious to the reprimand she was about to get. Proudly, she held up a picture she had just finished. "Look, mommy, it's a picture of our family," she explained.

Her mother didn't answer, just leaned down and picked up one of the pages. Yep, it was her missing report all right. "Ashley, go to your room," Helen ordered, the last of her temper about to snap.

"Why?" the child whined, hurt that her mother had ignored the picture she had made especially for her.

Leaning down to pick up all the pages, Helen replied through clenched teeth, "I said GO!" and yanked the colored page from her daughter's hand. Of all the papers to color why did her daughter have to ruin the one report she needed the most.

"Magnus," the Big Guy reprimanded softly as tears began to fall down the child's face.

"My picture," Ashley cried and began sniffling as she tried to grab it back from her mother. "Give it back. I'm not finished."

The loud ringing of the phone cut nosily into the room and snapped the last of Helen's patience. "I said go, Ashley. Now! I don't want to see you at this moment!"

The child turned on her heels and ran from the room sobbing loudly as she fled. Her mother groaned and hung her head before reaching for the phone. She ignored the look of reproach her old friend was giving her. He was extremely fond of her daughter and hated to see the child being reprimanded for anything.

Twenty minutes later the conference call had concluded successfully. Barney had returned to his office to tackle the huge stack of papers on his desk, grumbling as he left that he needed a vacation and a raise. The Big Guy had quietly left and she knew from the way he wouldn't acknowledge her that he was disappointed in her behavior. She sighed and leaned back in her chair. It had been an insane day. The team had brought in a dangerous abnormal who had managed to get free from its transport container and injure two of her team before it was recaptured. Barney was complaining about his workload and threatening yet again to retire, something she knew he was not yet ready to do. And the last minute conference call required all her negotiation skills to keep the peace between the two fighting heads of households.

She sighed again as her eyes fell upon the report. Curious, she flipped the pages over and looked at her daughter's drawings one at a time. The messy, colorful scribbles brought a smile to her tired face. Ashley was no Picasso but she was vibrant and creative. A soft laugh escaped her lips as she looked at the child's drawing of Sally the mermaid swimming with her hair flowing about in the water. Ashley had included a little figure of herself swimming with the mermaid. It was something she had wanted to do for some time now but until Ashley could learn to hold her breath long under water or scuba dive it was a dream that would go unfulfilled.

Helen flipped through the rest of the pages, coming to a stop at the last one. It was the family portrait her daughter had proudly tried to present to her earlier. A big smile spread across her face as she contemplated the image. She was guessing that the long haired figure holding hands with a smaller yellow haired figure were herself and Ashley. Beside them, a taller, hairy figure and a shorter one with spiky hair represented the Big Guy and Henry. The rest of the household stood to the right side of them and underneath all Ashley had written "my family." Regret slammed into her as she recalled yelling at her child and pulling the drawing away. "Oh, Helen," she reprimanded herself as she stood up and carried the drawing with her out of the room. She had a little one she needed to make amends with.

She arrived in the nursery only to find it empty, as was all the other bedrooms in their wing of the house. Frowning, Helen returned to the ground floor and went to the kitchen. There, she found her old friend chopping up vegetables for their dinner.

Disappointed at finding him alone, she asked, "Have you seen Ashley?"

He pushed the carrots and celery into a large, white bowl and began chopping up the potatoes. "No, isn't she up in the nursery?"

She shook her head and placed the drawing down on the table. "She wasn't in any of the bedrooms either."

"She's probably hiding," he guessed. "You did tell her to go," he reminded her.

She sighed. "Yeah, I did." In addition to the regret she was feeling, worry was starting to set in.

He peered over at the drawing and smiled as he saw his hairy representation towering over all the other figures. "Love the spikes on Henry's head."

Helen smiled and touched the spot on the drawing. "Me too."

"I'm sure she'll turn up soon enough," he said as he added the potatoes to the bowl.

"Hmmm," she murmured. She could wait for her pouting child to turn up or she could just review the security footage to locate her. Deciding she couldn't wait it out, Helen set out for the computer lab below. The Big Guy, recognizing the determined look on her face, wiped his hands on his apron and followed behind.

Together they rewound through the footage, starting half an hour back. Helen frowned guiltily as she watched Ashley running from her office in tears up to her bedroom. Shortly afterwards the child came out of her room wearing a large, purple backpack and clutching her stuffed dog to her chest as she walked down the hall. The footage showed her getting into the elevator and arriving onto the ground floor where she made her way down the hall towards the front door.

"Where is she going?" the Big Guy asked in confusion.

With a bad feeling spreading through her, she replied, "I've no idea." What in the world was the child up to? And why was she wearing a backpack?

When Ashley exited the front door, they had to switch the feed over to cameras around the grounds, rewinding until they located the child again.

"What's going on?" a child's voice asked from behind them.

"We're trying to find Ashley," the Big Guy told the boy, reaching over to ruffle his messy hair. "She wandered out of the house on her own."

Henry peered up at the screens. "She's wearing a backpack," he observed. "Is she running away?"

Helen started at that and turned to the boy. "Why do you think she's running away?"

The boy shrugged. "She's got Max with her. She can't sleep without him, you know."

The three watched as Ashley tried to get the front gates opened, failing to reach the keypad to unlock the gates due to her lack of height. Helen laughed softly as her unhappy daughter kicked the gates in frustration before moving off alongside the tall brick wall in search of another exit.

Shaking her head, Helen turned to leave. "I better go get her." She had just gotten outside the door when the Big Guy barked her name. Returning, she was about to ask why he was rewinding the footage when he hit the play button again and she saw her child suddenly fall through the ground.

"Ashley!" she cried and spun around to race down the hall, quickly followed by the Sasquatch.

"Holy cow!" Henry cried as he reached for the remote and rewound the film.


	29. A Mother's Promise

Author's note: Struggled with this chapter quite a bit but I think it worked out okay in the end. Darn writer's block!

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 29: A Mother's Promise

Gasping hard for breath, Helen arrived at the area she had seen Ashley disappear from and began to desperately look around for the hole, all the while screaming her daughter's name. It was a cloudy, cool day and the dark shadows thrown from the tall wall were making it harder to find the hole among the tall grasses. Loudly sniffing around the air, the Big Guy moved carefully towards one section near the wall and finally stopped to lean down. "Magnus, over here."

As she reached him, he held out a long arm before her as a precaution. Together they looked down into the hole, which was possibly 6-7 feet down, and could just make out the light colored top of the child's shirt. Ashley neither returned her mother's calls nor moved.

"She must have gotten knocked unconscious from the fall," he gruffly said, unable to hide his concern as he searched for a way to get down into the hole. Its width wasn't very wide, certainly not wide enough for either adult to get through.

"We can't make the hole wider without risking debris collapsing down upon her," Helen observed before calling down to her daughter again. The lack of response by the child had the doctor's stomach twisted tight in fear and she wrung her hands nervously.

"What are we going to do? Neither you nor I can fit through the opening to get to her," her old friend said. The child had been unconscious for at least 15 minutes by his estimation.

"I can fit," a boy's voice cut in as he moved forward to look down into the hole. The Sasquatch's arm shot out before the child to prevent him from falling in. The last thing they needed was two children trapped down a hole.

"Henry, you want to go down the hole?" Helen asked as she eyed him. He was lanky enough to possibly fit through the small opening.

He shook his shaggy head. "No, I don't want to… but I will," he said as he dropped a pile of rope and metal clips and aimed his flashlight down the hole. The beam of light moved over the dark bottom until it landed on the form of the missing child. Ashley was lying onto her back and her eyes were closed on her pale face.

"Right," Helen said in mission mode and focused on the ten year old boy. "Let's get you fitted up." She was desperate to get her daughter out of the hole as soon as possible and into the infirmary.

The Big Guy worked the rope and clips into a safe harness in which the boy could be lowered. "When you get to the bottom you need to unclip the harness and put it on Ashley," he gruffly instructed. "You both can't fit back through the hole together, so send her up first and then I'll lower the rope back down to you and pull you up."

The boy looked down into the dark hole nervously as he prepared to be lowered. "It will be alright, Henry," the tall man assured him. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Henry nodded, closed his eyes and began his descent down the narrow hole. About a third of the way down, the hole widened a great deal, helping a bit with the feeling of claustrophobia that nipped at the boy. "I'm a big brave dog, I'm a big brave dog," he chanted to himself.

Above, the two adults looked at one another. "Did he just say he was a big brave dog?" Helen asked with wide eyes as she kept torch's light focused on Ashley. The Big Guy nodded. "Did you…?" she asked. He shook his head. "Did you?"

"No," she answered as she returned her focus downward. How did Henry know that he was a HAP if neither she nor the Big Guy had told him?

"I got her!" Henry yelled back up as he undid his harness and attached it to her. Soon the child was pulled up out of the hole and into her mother's waiting arms.

"Go," the Big Guy told her, knowing she was eager to get Ashley to the infirmary. "I'll take care of Henry."

She walked quickly away, trying her best not to jostle her daughter in case there was a head injury. In the infirmary, she set about doing a thorough exam. Though her small daughter had several bruises and cuts, she was relieved to find no real damage done. The large backpack, which the child had filled with a few pieces of clothing and mostly stuffed animals, had risen halfway above Ashley's head and had probably taken most of the impact when she landed on top of it.

"Ohhhhhh," Ashley groaned, opening her eyes.

"Ashley," her relieved mother cried, hugging the girl tight to her chest. Ashley mumbled something unintelligible, causing Helen to release her tight hold on her only child.

"Ow," she complained. "You're hugging me too tight, mommy."

"Sorry, darling. You just worried me so much that I couldn't help it," Helen apologized, sitting down on the bed as she stroked her daughter's face. "Whatever were you doing wandering out alone like that?"

Ashley looked at her with big, saddened eyes. "You told me to go away so I did."

Helen shook her head at her stubborn child. "I told you to go to your room. I did not tell you to try to leave the Sanctuary grounds. Where were you planning to go to anyway," she asked as she brushed some stray hair out of the girl's face.

"Away," Ashley said softly, looking down at her little hands as she clutched the thin blanket covering her. Her brow furrowed as she recalled everything that had happened since the incident in the library.

"Away where?" Helen asked again. When the child didn't answer, she lifted Ashley's chin with a finger to look her in the eye. "Away where?" she repeated.

"Well," Ashley finally answered, "since you didn't want me here I thought I'd go find my daddy. Maybe he'd want me." She bit her bottom lip and stared down at her hands, afraid to look at her mother and see her anger.

Leaning back, Helen felt as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. She had been completely unprepared for the topic of John to come up. "Oh, Ashley," she said sadly and squeezed her eyes shut. They had had a few superficial discussions about John after the child had discovered that other children had a mommy _and_ a daddy when she was four. But rarely had Ashley mentioned her father.

"He doesn't want me either, does he?" Ashley guessed, peering up at her from half-lidded, sky blue eyes.

"Oh, darling, if you're father were here he would be thrilled to have you. It just isn't possible," she said, her voice faltering as her throat tightened.

"Why?" the child asked, her big blue eyes wet with tears.

Helen's eyes also watered up. "The man that was your father doesn't exist anymore. We lost him a long time ago."

"Daddy's dead?"

"Basically, yes."

Ashley sniffled and swiped at a tear with the back of her hand. "So I have nowhere else to go?"

"You don't need to go anywhere else. This is your home. You belong here… with me." She reached out and took both of her daughter's hands into hers. "I'm so sorry I yelled at you earlier. I shouldn't have done that. But I want you to know that I love you so very much and always will."

Sucking on her bottom lip, Ashley didn't reply except to look up at her mother with sad eyes and then back down at her hands resting in her mother's larger ones. She wasn't entirely ready to make friends with mommy yet.

The scuffling of feet caught her attention as Henry shuffled over to the bedside. "You had us all scared, Ash." Behind him, the Big Guy came to stand beside Helen, placing a big furry hand on her shoulder and giving her a comforting squeeze. They had heard most of their conversation and his heart ached for mother and child. He knew what a difficult subject John Druitt was for Magnus.

"Sorry," Ashley muttered, going to pull her hands free only to have her mother grab them tighter which caused her to look up at her again. Helen squeezed her hands again as the pair stared at one another silently.

Acknowledging the boy, Helen reached a hand over to grab hold of his cheek and gave him a kiss. "You were very brave and saved the day. Thank you."

His cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. Henry was not one to brag about himself but he did love being appreciated. "It was nothing," he murmured demurely while his shining eyes confirmed his pleasure at being praised by the woman who he considered his adopted mother.

The Big Guy smiled down at the boy. Henry held a very special place in his heart. "Speaking of brave, why did you chant 'I'm a big, brave dog' while going down the hole, Henry?"

Letting out a big giggle, Ashley asked the boy, "You thought you were Chuckie, Henry?"

"Who's Chuckie?" the adults said in unison.

Henry's flush spread to his ears. "He's one of the little boys on The Rugrats cartoon."

"Chuckie's the scaredy cat one," Ashley smugly proclaimed. "Tommy's the brave one, and Phil and Lil are the cool ones. They eat bugs."

"I see," Helen said with a soft laugh. "So Chuckie goes around saying he's a big, brave dog, does he?"

Henry shook his head. "No, only in one episode. In the Halloween episode he thought he had been turned into a werepuppy… that's a baby werewolf… and had to go inside a scary haunted house."

"Oh my," Helen uttered as she and her old friend exchanged glances. So the boy still had no idea he was a HAP. They were going to have to have that conversation in the near future. He was getting old enough to understand things. She wasn't sure when the change would start occurring but she did know that he needed to be told before it happened.

Wanting to deflect Magnus's intense stare at him, Henry held up the girl's favorite stuffed animal. "This might make you feel better."

"Max!" Ashley cried, yanking her hands free from her mother's grasp to grab her stuffed dog and crush it to her chest. "I couldn't go anywhere without you."

Helen inwardly sighed. Max was a mess and in need of a wash, but how to get him away from her daughter without upsetting her further? She decided to let it go for the moment. Both Ashley and Max needed bathing so why not kill two tasks at the same time later on in the evening. "Well, I want you to keep in mind… anywhere you and Max go, I will follow and find you," she softly said. "I will always come for you and bring you home."

Hopeful little eyes looked up at her from behind Max's head. "Always?"

"Always," her mother replied. Her eyes were watery as she thought about how close she'd come to losing her precious child today. Ashley was the best thing that had ever happened to her… and was the only good part of John she had left.

Ashley held out one of her little hands. "Pinky swear?"

Hooking their pinkies, Helen sniffed, "Pinky swear," and leaned forward to kiss the child on her forehead, lingering for a long moment. "I will always come for you," she whispered.

Jerking up with a loud gasp, Helen awoke from her vivid dream. Only it really wasn't a dream. It was a remembrance of the first time she'd almost lost her child. Tears were running down her cheeks and her promise to Ashley to always come for her replayed itself in her head. She had promised her child that she would always bring her home and, now that she was back in the past, she actually had the chance to do that. But could she? Would she risk tampering with the timeline to save the child she had waited a century to have? And if she did get the nerve to do it, how would she achieve it?

The churning of her stomach and the pounding of her head pulled her out of her melancholy thoughts. A hand flew up to her mouth as she struggled to untangle herself from the bed covers. The queasiness only seemed to get worse as she fairly flew across the room, flung the door open and rushed to the bathroom, distractedly slinging the door closed behind her. It didn't quite catch, not that she noticed as she dropped herself down on her knees and threw up in the toilet.

After several minutes of being sick, she closed the toilet lid, flushed and weakly rested her forehead on her hands. Her whole body felt overheated and she was about to give in to her need to remove her robe when she heard the faucet turn on and off. Before she could work up the energy to lift her head a cold, damp wash cloth was pressed against the back of her neck. Hissing slightly at the cold, she stretch her neck as the cloth slipped under the collar of the robe she was wearing. The cloth soon moved around to dampen her face and surrounding hair.

At the feel of another hand sliding around her waist to untie her robe, Helen slid her hand to cover it and immediately recognized the large hand pulling her robe apart. "John?" she guessed as a body pressed against hers from behind.

"Expecting someone else?" he teased as he quickly removed his hand from hers to push her robe off her shoulders before he gently, lovingly began to rub her down with the damp cloth. Sighing, she went back to resting her head on her hands, appreciating the coolness against her hot body.

Druitt had been heading down the hall towards her room to check on her when he heard someone being ill in the bathroom. Before he pushed open the cracked door he knew it would be her. It was the early hours of the morning and the rest of the household was asleep. Quietly shutting the door behind him, John headed straight for the sink and the nearest wash cloth. He was quite acquainted with what it was like to be sick at one's stomach after his many attempts at drugging the energy elemental that had possessed him. First one would feel as if they were on fire and want to undress… then after the body had started to recover the shakes would come and one would feel like they were freezing.

Once he had wiped her down to the waist from front and back, he stood up to drop the cloth into the sink and collected two large bath towels. Helen, meanwhile, was starting to shiver as her body's temperature cooled and she pulled her robe back over her body, weakly tying it at the waist just as she felt herself being pulled backwards across the floor. "John," she whimpered. Motion was not her friend right now.

"Sorry, luv," he whispered as he sat on the floor against the base of the sink's cabinet and pulled her into his arms. He felt her sink into him while panting softly as she tried to squelch another wave of nausea in her stomach. Feeling her start to shake, he unfolded the two towels and covered her with them. He then wrapped his arms around her tightly and closed his eyes as they quietly waited for her health to improve.

Helen sighed and turned her head to snuggle into his throat. His head came to rest on top of hers and she sighed again. So this is what it would have been like had he been around the first time she was pregnant with their child. While she had been perfectly capable of having Ashley on her own and had never complained to any one, especially James, there were several times when she wished her child's father was there to care for her. Exhaustion, particularly at the beginning and ending of the pregnancy, would have been less stressful had John been there to help her.

John waited through the subsiding of her shivers until he could feel her breathing even out and become low. "So… can I take this as not just a _maybe_ I'm pregnant or a _possibly_ I'm pregnant but a _definitely_ I'm pregnant?" he asked quietly.

She had almost fallen asleep when she heard him speak. Opening her tired eyes, she quietly answered, "Yes, I think so," and felt him kiss the side of her head.

"We are going to talk about this, aren't we?" he asked as his right hand rubbed up and down her arm. She pressed her nose against his throat and closed her eyes. If he kept that up she would definitely be asleep soon. "Helen?"

Groaning, she agreed, "Later."

"Later," he repeated. "We _are_ going to talk about this," he emphasized, putting her on notice that he would not back down from this request. He knew her well. She had lived over a century doing things exactly her way and he had not been able to be a part of her first pregnancy. There was no way he was going to allow her to cut him out of the second one, not even if it was for something as simple as choosing the color of the nursery.

She groaned again and lightly swatted his hand. Helen knew him well enough to know that he was going to drive her crazy during the pregnancy. He had not been able to be a part of the first one and she had no doubt he was going to overcompensate with the second one. But right now she didn't want to think about the pregnancy. There had been some issues with the first one that he was unaware of and she needed some time to think those through on her own. "Help me up," she ordered as she pushed his arms away and pulled the towels off.

He unfolded himself, helped her stand in front of the sink and backed up enough to give her room to move about. Tossing the still damp wash cloth into the nearby tub before turning the sink faucet on, Helen rinsed her mouth and then thoroughly brushed her teeth and tongue to remove the horrid taste in her mouth. She ended by splashing fresh water on her face and, clutching the sink with both hands, peered at her reflection in the mirror. God, she looked like hell. Her messy red hair was a stark contrast to her blanched skin and hollow eyes with dark shadows underneath. She wouldn't blame him for a second if he high tailed it out of the room. She was anything but the glowing picture of impending motherhood.

Behind her, John moved to flush the toilet one final time before picking up the two discarded towels. She gratefully accepted one of the towels and slowly wiped her face dry. Feeling his hands coming to rest on the sink around her, essentially pinning her against the sink, she lowered the towel and found him staring intently at her reflection.

Leaning his face close to hers, he softly and emphatically informed her that "I'm not going anywhere."

She blinked and clutched the towel to her chest. How did he know what she was thinking? "I didn't say you were," she answered.

"Well, I'm not," he said again. "We made this child together and we are going to have this child together."

Lowering her head, she sighed. She really didn't have the strength to get into this with him right now. "Help me back to bed?" she requested and felt him stiffen a bit. There was a pause, as if he were considering whether to continue with his confrontation or let it go. Finally, he moved away and allowed her to turn before wrapping his arm around her waist and gently lifting into his arms.

"I can walk, you know," she half-heartedly protested as she rested her head against his chest.

He smiled as he moved them back to her bedroom. "And if you were feeling better you would let me know that in no uncertain terms," he agreed and felt her smile against his throat. Quietly shutting the bedroom door behind them, he carried her over to the bed and helped tuck her under the covers.

She watched as he moved around to the other side of the bed, toe off his shoes, and undress down to his shorts. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked.

"Going to bed. It's nearly three in the morning and I'm exhausted," he responded as he slid into the bed and pull her against him, careful to not jostle her bandaged left arm. Giving her a tired smile, he seemed to read her mind yet again. "Don't worry, luv, I'm not going to have my way with you right now… and James already knows I'm the father so I doubt finding me in bed with you will come as a great shock to Dr. Watson. If it does, he's not as clever as he thinks he is."

She smiled tiredly back at him as she settled herself in his arms. She was so weary. "Smart ass," she retorted drowsily.

"A requirement in keeping up with you, my dear," he murmured and yawned. The rise and fall of his chest became rhythmically soothing and both soon drifted off into slumber.

Helen's last, complete thought was recalling her promise to her lost, first born child. "I will always come for you and bring you home."


	30. Age is Just a Number

Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews! They keep me going despite the occasional writer's block.

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 30: Age is Just a Number

It was mid-morning when she awoke to find herself alone in bed. Slowly easing herself up onto the headboard, Helen took several deep breaths as she oriented herself to where she was and why. There was no nausea, thank goodness, and though her left arm still hurt the pain was nothing in comparison to yesterday. Quietly, she sat there gently stroking her stomach as she reflected on everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. At one hundred sixty-two years of age, Helen Magnus was going to have a baby. A baby that was going to be born a century earlier than it should be. And the father was the same man that she had sworn she would never allow near her child.

What a mess, she thought and shook her head. Of all the possibilities that could have occurred after following Adam Worth through the time portal, this was not one she could have dreamed up even in her wildest dreams. James she could have seen herself falling into bed with eventually… and having a baby with. But John? She shook her head again. Fate had a very wicked sense of humor.

Her hand stroked her stomach once again then stopped to rest on it. What the hell was she going to do about all this? She was a one hundred sixty-two years of age for God's sake. She shouldn't have been able to get pregnant in the first place. And how was she going to have the baby if she did decide to go through with the pregnancy? There had been problems with the first pregnancy when she was carrying Ashley.

Ashley. Helen closed her eyes as pain slammed into her at the thought of her lost child. She had been dreaming about her first born for the better part of two weeks and now she understood why. All the other dreams had been fuzzy snippets that she only recalled little parts of when she awoke. Some of the things she had dreamed about had happened while others were bizarre things that never did. Yesterday's dream was the first clear and fully memorable one she had to date… and it had been of her promising to always come for Ashley.

Helen's heart clenched. Ashley was here, in this timeline, albeit as a frozen embryo. She could always remove the one inside her now and implant herself with Ashley, but then her second child would die at the hands of the Cabal in Ashley's place, which was hardly a solution. No one, particularly her children, should die because of the twisted goals of the Cabal. She could implant the first embryo and carry both children to term together, which would totally mess up the timeline and effectively make the babies like twins. That was far too risky to both embryos and her younger self would be devastated to find the first one missing when the time came to become appropriately pregnant with Ashley. How was she going to be able to save both of her offspring without destroying the timeline completely?

John had implied more than once that he did not care if the timeline was kept completely intact. They were here already and had to continue to live their lives as neither was truly capable of suicide without a really strong reason. The death of the other perhaps being the only reason for such a drastic act. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would not want to continue on without her. And she was terrified to know that she might well feel the same now.

It had been almost a year since they'd arrived back in merry ole England and her entire existence had been turned upside. The hands of time had been turned backwards and she and John were back to being lovers with a baby on the way. Only this time there was no Jack to destroy it all. There was only her conscience and her body that stood in the way.

She shifted on the bed and, forgetting about her bandaged left wrist, yelped in pain as she came down on it wrong just as the door opened.

John, entering with a tray, frowned as he heard her cry out and saw her quickly press her wrist to her chest. "Are you alright?" he asked as he came up beside her and placed the tray on the bedside table.

"I just put pressure on the wrong place," she grumbled as she messaged her wrist.

He sat down on the bed to face her. "And your stomach?"

Helen gave me a small smile. "Much better, knock on wood." Eyeing the tray with interest, she asked, "What have we here?" She was actually a little hungry, something her stomach loudly announced with a grumble.

The corner of his mouth turned up at the sound. "Breakfast... or brunch if you prefer. He reached over to pick up the tray and placed it across her lap. "Peppermint tea for the unhappy tummy," he pointed out as he poured her a cup of hot tea, earning him a wider smile from his lover, "an English muffin lightly buttered and some jam should you so wish to sweeten it."

Gratefully taking the cup, she closed her eyes and inhaled the strong mint scent before taking a deep sip. She gave a happy moan and opened her eyes to look back at her tray. "And the rose?" she inquired as she leaned forward to smell the white flower. The first rose he'd given her had come from the grounds of Oxford and it had been white. From then on he always gave her white roses as a symbol of his affection.

"For my dear beloved, of course," he answered in his melodic, deep voice. His intense, possessive stare made her blush slightly and lower her eyes.

Helen noticed the sealed envelope with her name lying on the tray. "What's this?" she asked as she picked it up and recognized James's elegant, elongated handwriting.

"An apology from James I expect. He had to leave early this morning due to a request from his partner. She seems to be rather bossy if you ask me," he said as he forced himself to stop smirking at her. A surge of unadulterated male pride had filled him when she had blushed and lowered her eyes from his intense stare. That was how she had reacted to him when they were first courting and it was how he knew that she reciprocated his feelings. She never reacted that way to another other man, just him. The fact that she was pregnant with his child only furthered his sense of male pride.

The smirk was starting to pull at his mouth again and he bit down on his bottom lip to hide it. He was going to have to be a bit careful with how he handled her for the time being. She was a proud, stubborn woman who liked to do things her way. He was going to have to be able to convince her to do things "their" way in order that both would be able to live with whatever compromises they would need to make.

Putting her cup down, Helen tore the envelope open and quietly read the brief note.

"My dearest Helen, please forgive my unfortunate outburst last night. I did not mean to lose my temper. Your unexpected news caught me off guard and I reacted rather badly. I only hope that you will forgive my lack of gentlemanly behavior. Your happiness and well being are my utmost concern always. Love, James."

She smiled wistfully as she reread the note. She did so love James Watson. Always had. He was handsome, clever, witty, courageous, and chivalrous. He was the kind of man every woman dreamed of. How different her life would have been had he been the one she had chosen from the start. Then again, what if James had been the one who had gotten possessed by the energy elemental? Would he have been strong enough to keep it from totally consuming him like John had been able to do? She suspected not.

Seeing the distant, sad look in her eye as she stared at the note, John frowned. She was thinking about James and herself, not the note. He cleared his throat, causing her to look up at him and lower the note. "So, what does old Snoopy Pants have to say?" he asked a tad snippily.

Helen caught his annoyed tone and frowned. He had no right to be jealous. It was his own fault she'd gotten involved with James in the first place. "It was as you suggested. An apology," she answered as she folded the note closed and placed it down on the bed before reaching for the muffin and the knife to spread the jam.

She had swallowed two bites before rolling her eyes. "Stop staring at me like that," she ordered as she placed the remainder of the muffin back onto her plate.

"Like what?" he asked, smirking again.

"Like the big, bad wolf about to pounce on an innocent lamb!" she accused.

He guffawed. "Please. You haven't been innocent since the moment we met, Miss let's inject ourselves with vampire blood and see what happens," he declared and received a very dirty look in response. "If anyone's at a disadvantage here it's me."

"How so?" she asked indignantly with brows creased. The man could be so infuriating!

"I am madly, passionately, _hopelessly _in love with you, my dear doctor. I have been for well over a century… since the very first time you allowed me to hold your hand for longer than fifteen seconds. If that doesn't put me at a disadvantage here I don't know what does."

The sincerity with which he made his confession touched her deeply and she reached out her good hand to cup his cheek as she gave him a warm smile. "If you really love me you'll take me home now. I am in desperate need of a bath, a good combing and new clothes."

"The bath last night wasn't enough for you?" he teased and received a soft smack on the cheek.

She glared at him. "Let's not talk about that so called bath." She sighed. "I want to go home, John."

"Alright," he relented. "Finish your brunch and we'll go."

Five minutes later they were back in her living room. Helen stretched out her arms and neck and sighed. It was such a relief to be home she thought as she headed for her bathroom, coming to a halt in her bedroom as she felt a large presence following her. Turning around, she found him standing five feet away, hands folded and watching her. "John, I…" she began, trying to think of the best way to make him go away, at least for a little while, without hurting his feelings.

"Don't worry about me. I'll just wait here," he interrupted, firmly planting his feet to the ground.

"That's not really necessary. I'm fine, really. Surely you want to go home to rest and get a change of clothing?" she suggested hopefully, sighing inwardly as she noticed his eyes narrow.

"I'd rather stay and talk," he replied and waited for her excuse as to why they should put it off again.

Groaning loudly, she stared upward, away from his unblinking gaze, and pleaded with him. "John… I… I need some time… to think…"

"Okay, take your time. I'll just go sit out on the couch."

"John," she whined.

"You agreed to discuss the pregnancy later. Well, it's later," he retorted, placing his hands on his hips in annoyance.

"It has not been 24 hours yet! I would like a little time to come to terms with the fact that I'm a hundred and sixty two years old and going to have a baby!" she fired back, matching his pose and frown.

"Age is just a number for the likes of us. Our bodies, our minds, they still react and appear as in our youth. And I told you I wasn't going anywhere," he reminded her.

She growled. "Oh, you are the most frustrating man! I told you we would discuss the baby and we will. All I am asking is that you give me some time to collect my thoughts so that I may discuss the situation with you in a calm and clear manner. I don't think I'm asking too much!" she said in exasperation. "It's not like we don't have plenty of time on our hands to talk. All we have is time!"

"How much time are we talking about here?" he asked stubbornly. "I don't want to miss out on any bonding time with our child. I want him or her to know who their father is!" The fact that Ashley did not know who he was when they first met still stuck in his craw. That was not going to happen with their second child.

Yep, he was going to be a royal pain in her backside throughout the pregnancy she thought. He was already in possessive papa mode and it had not yet been 24 hours since he had gotten the news. She was so screwed. "John!" she cried angrily then swayed and grabbed at the nearby footboard of the bed for support. Closing her eyes, Helen took several deep breaths while her bandaged hand went to steady her stomach.

John rushed over and his arms grabbed hold of her shoulders. "Are you alright?" he asked in concern.

"Just a little dizzy," she breathily answered as she lowered herself to sit down on the bed.

"Can I get you something? Water? Peppermint tea?" he quickly asked. He wasn't exactly sure what a pregnant woman needed. His mother had had his younger sibling while he was away at boarding school and he had not been around when Helen was carrying Ashley. Should he get a doctor? James?

"I just need you to stop yelling and arguing with me," she complained as she reclined back on the bed. "It causes my blood pressure to spike which is bad for the baby. Don't you know you're not supposed to upset a pregnant woman? Especially in her first trimester?" She aimed a piercing look at him like he was the biggest idiot on the planet as she stroked her stomach lightly and took several deep swallows as if she were going to be sick.

He looked appropriately contrite. "Helen, I apologize. I did not mean to make you sick."

He looked so ashamed of himself she almost felt sorry for him. Almost. "The first trimester of a pregnancy is the most dangerous. This is when a miscarriage is most likely to occur," she explained softly. "If we want the baby to be born we need to be careful during this time."

"Do you want the baby to be born?" he asked in such a vulnerable voice that she almost felt guilty for worrying him. Almost.

She nodded, afraid to voice it in case she broke down in tears. "You?"

John nodded, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "Very much so."

"Then you're going to have to cut me some slack for a bit. My body is undergoing several changes right now, ones that I don't exactly have control over, and I don't feel so good. Can you please just back off and give me a little room to breathe?"

He sighed and dropped his head. "Yes, of course. Whatever you need." The mention of the word "miscarriage" had caused his blood to turn cold. Since the moment he had learned that he might to be a father again, John had experienced such a rollercoaster of strong emotions that he felt like he couldn't quite get his bearings yet. The only thing he knew was that he wasn't about to let history repeat itself again. He would not lose her or their child again. He would do whatever it took to keep his family with him.

Seeing his internal struggle reflected across his broad face caused her to feel more guilty. Reaching over to tilt his face up, she gave him a small, reassuring smile. "It will be okay. I just need a little time to adjust."

"How much time?" he repeated.

"Two days?" she hesitantly suggested, biting her bottom lip as she awaited his reply.

He hunched over in defeat. "Okay. Two days."

"Thank you," she said in obvious relief.

John looked around unhappily. The thought of leaving her alone out in the countryside with no way to call for help bothered him greatly. If only they were back home in their correct timeline. "Is there anything I can get you before I leave? Some food maybe?"

"No food!" Helen insisted quickly, holding her hands up in alarm. "Please. No food."

"You have to eat, Helen," he said, checking her face for signs of the onset of morning sickness.

She took his hand in her good one and gave it a squeeze. "I will eat, don't worry. It will probably just be mild things such as bread and oatmeal for a little while until my morning sickness evens out. That's perfectly normal in a pregnancy, I assure you."

He wrinkled up his nose, puffed up his lips in defeat and sighed. He was going to have to leave her now, something he was loathed to do. His attempt to invite himself to stay here with her hadn't worked. If only he could convince her to come stay with him. _Their_ cottage by the sea was just waiting for her to arrive. It wouldn't be a proper home until she inhabited it with him.

"You aren't going to leave without giving me a goodbye kiss, are you?" she asked, flashing him an inviting dimpled smile to distract him from his melancholy thoughts.

John returned her smile. "Heaven forbid," he murmured, leaning over and claiming her lips with his own. Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck and tugged him closer. By the time they separated, both were gasping for breath and she was actually a little lightheaded. Damn. The man could kiss a woman senseless… which was one of the reasons she had chosen him to be her mate in the first place.

"I hate leaving you," he growled and leaned back for another kiss.

"I know," she murmured. "But I'll be okay and when you come back we will talk. I promise." Foreheads pressed together, they stared into one another's eyes for a long while until he finally pulled away. He stood, stared longingly at her for a few more seconds, repeated solemnly "Two days," and then teleported away.

She closed her eyes and gave a loud sigh. "Okay, manipulating John was a little sneaky, I admit," Helen told her unborn child as she got up and walked to the bathroom. "But your father is a very stubborn man and sometimes a woman has to do what she has to do." And if he was going to be this clingy this early on into the pregnancy, she was going to have to brush up on her acting skills for sudden fainting, dizziness and whatever else she might need to do in order to keep him under control.


	31. At Long Last

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 31: At Long Last

The cooling water skimmed over her warm flesh as she shifted slightly against the pillow on the rim of the tub. She let out a deep sigh and kept her eyes closed as her feet flexed against the cool porcelain faucet at the other end of the tub. It was early afternoon, two days after John had departed and she expected he would arrive in a few short hours for their inevitable discussion on impeding parenthood. Meanwhile, she was going to enjoy all the peace and quiet she could find before the shouting match ensued.

Helen had had a rough night thanks to morning sickness, and the morning hadn't been much better. The relief from the morning sickness had been replaced by eerie dreams of her first born that kept her tossing and turning so much so that by the time she had awoken two hours ago she was already exhausted. A leisurely stroll around her gardens and a one sided chat and brushing of her horse, Ollie, had helped to regain some of her sereneness… though not necessarily her sanity.

Her body had been overheated, despite the early May weather being only slightly warm. Which is why she ended up soaking in a bubble bath. Helen had collected two fistfuls of lavender, tossing it into the bath water, had scrubbed herself down and then closed her eyes and let her senses and body relax in the scented water. Behind her, the open window allowed a light breeze to come into the bathroom, ushering in the soft aromas of the outside shrub roses and lavender to perfume the small space. She sighed and wiggled her toes as her mind wandered back yet again to the newest set of dreams that haunted her.

She was in her office working on the never ending pile of papers and reports that seemed to multiple like dust bunnies while across the room her seldom used television was entertaining her young daughter. Ashley was seated on the carpeted floor, neglecting her tea party and dolls in favor of watching her favorite cartoon, _The Rugrats_. Helen had tuned it all out to concentrate on a report of an unusual sighting of a mermaid off the coast of Crete. Sally would be thrilled to have company in her tank, though Helen suspected a male companion would be the preference. Mermen and Mermaids were rare to see, let alone easy to catch, so beggars couldn't be choosers.

Preoccupied with her report, Helen was therefore startled when a pair of little hands tugged at her skirt. Looking down, she found a pair of bright, sky blue eyes staring up at her. "Oh, hello," she greeted.

"Mommy, are you going to have a baby?" her four year old daughter asked hopefully.

"What?" she sputtered, wondering where in the world Ashley had gotten that idea. "Why would you think I'm going to have a baby?"

"Cuz I want some," came the innocent little reply.

Helen laughed and lifted her daughter into her lap. "Why do you want a baby?" she asked in amusement as one of her hands stroked the child's silky blonde pigtails.

"So I can play lemon-lade stand like the babies and make nickels," Ashley explained, pointing to the tv, as if it was the most logical thing in the world. "It takes four babies to make the lemon-lade, see?" Helen looked over at the tv screen to see the cartoon babies working assembly style to sell lemonade to other cartoon characters.

"I see," her mother nodded. "And what do you need nickels for?"

Giving her an incredulous look, the child answered, "To buy more lemon-lade, of course, silly."

"Of course," Helen grinned. She always knew any child of hers would keep her on her toes but never did she fully imagine how much joy and laughter the child would bring her.

"Can you get me some babies?" Ashley asked again.

Her mother continued to smile. "Uh, I'm afraid it doesn't work that way, my luv. It's a lot of work to have a baby and even more work to keep one."

Ashley frowned. "Then how am I going to play lemon-lade?"

"Well, I suppose I could take a break and play with you," Helen suggested, turning the page she was reading sideways to mark her spot, and pushed her wheeled chair back from the table. Standing up, she hoisted her daughter onto her hip and began to walk towards the door. "I'm sure we can extort some nickels from the rest of the household in exchange for cups of lemonade. We might even get some dimes if the lemonade is drinkable," she grinned at her happy child.

"Are dimes better than nickels?" Ashley asked excitedly.

"Uh huh," Helen said, holding up two fingers. "A dime is worth two nickels."

Ashley clapped her hands. "Oh boy! Two whole nickels."

Helen giggled. "Indeed. You'll be quite the wealthy young lady."

Seeing the tv screen once more before they exited the room, Ashley asked, "Do you think we'll have a baby someday? I'd like a baby sister but not a baby brother."

Her mother thought it most unlikely that she'd ever have another child. She had already decided that Ashley would be her only child but did not give voice to her feelings. "Anything is possible, I suppose. Why not a baby brother?"

"I already have Henry," the child said. "And he doesn't like to wear dressies or play tea party."

"Ah," came her mother's reply as they strolled down the hall to the kitchen. "Boys can be difficult when they won't do what you want them to, can't they?"

"Tell me about it," Ashley retorted with a shake of her head. "Henry won't even let me paint his fingernails with my markers!"

"Absolutely shocking," Helen answered in mock horror, laughing again before giving the little girl a kiss on the cheek. Her daughter made every day worth waking up to, no doubt about it.

Helen's eyes flew open as she was startled out of her daydream of her little daughter. She looked around the room to recall where she was and tears sprang to her eyes as she realized she was alone in the tub with no Ashley nearby to make her laugh. "My baby," she sniffled and swiped at her eyes. She blew out a loud breath as her chest constricted in pain and took a deep breath. Closing her eyes once more, she took another deep breath and began to sink under the now chilly water. The only sound she heard was the beating of her heart ringing in her ears as she resided below the water and she felt her body sway lightly from the motion of the water. Time seemed to stand still for a long moment.

Suddenly, without warning, she felt herself being rudely pulled upward as a pair of hands roughly yanked her out of the water. Surprised, she inadvertently swallowed some water and began choking and spitting out lavender scented water.

"Helen!" John barked as he lifted her naked body out of the water and plopped her unceremoniously onto the thick rug by the porcelain tub. "Wake up!"

She turned on her side, still coughing and trying to clear her throat. "John?" she said weakly.

He slumped onto the floor next to her and draped a large towel over her. His hand pressed to his heart, he breathlessly yelled, "You gave me a heart attack, woman! What the hell were you doing at the bottom of the tub?" Indeed, his face was paler than usual and his eyes dilated wide in terror. "Please tell me you weren't trying to kill yourself!"

"What?" she squawked in a scratchy voice. "Why would you think I was trying to kill myself?" she asked as she struggled to sit upright. Lavender water might be wonderful to soak in but it was most certainly not pleasant to swallow. She coughed again and belched unladylike as a little more water was spit up.

"I don't know. You tell me!" he bellowed. His nerves were frayed at finding her lying underwater with eyes closed as if she were dead and he struggled to get his heart rate to slow down its rapid pace.

She shifted the towel to wrap around her body and gave him a very disgruntled look. "I was soaking my hair in the lavender water," she growled back cantankerously.

"So you weren't trying to kill yourself," he repeated suspiciously. It had never occurred to him that she might chose death as an option to their baby situation until now.

"Of course not!" she hotly denied as she stood up and reached for another towel to wrap her hair in. She was now freezing and only wanted to put on some warm clothing. "And you should be ashamed of yourself thinking that I would do something so despicable as to try to drown myself and our child."

Not waiting for his reply, she stormed out of the bathroom into her bedroom. The nerve of that man!

Groaning, John unfolded his large form to stand. This was not how he hoped they would start off their much needed conversation. He pulled a spare towel from the large wooden basket and began drying himself off as he exited the room.

In her bedroom, he found that she had pulled on a fresh combinations and her robe and was angrily drying her hair. "You're back early. I thought we agreed to two days," she complained, dropping the towel onto the bed and reaching for her brush. Her day seemed to be getting worse rather than better.

"I agreed to two days," he retorted as he began unbuttoning his soaked shirt and cuffs. "Not 48 hours."

"48 hours is two days," she grumbled, yanking the brush through her hair roughly in agitation.

"But two days is not necessarily a full 48 hours," he smugly returned and quickly teleported out as her brush flew across the room to barely miss him, striking the wall instead. He reappeared, looked at the hole in the wall and then reached down to pick up her chipped tortoiseshell brush. "Temper, temper. You must watch that blood pressure, my dear."

Eyes flashing angrily, Helen stomped over to yank the brush from his hand. John, eyes equally flashing, grabbed a hold of her wrist and pulled her tight against him. They struggled against one another, each fighting for control.

"Let go," she hissed.

"No," he answered sharply, refusing to loosen his grip.

"Let go or so help me I'll…"

"You'll what?" he hissed back, locking eyes with her. "Shoot me? Kick me in my crotch? Threaten to withhold my child from me? What?"

The last bit of control Helen had snapped and she began crying. Everything was going wrong and she seemed helpless to do anything about it.

He was thrown by her reaction and slowly released her wrist. "Helen?" John questioned, uncertain how to respond. He had expected her to rail at him and possible strike him to get free. Sobbing in his arms he did not expect.

She slumped into him crying and his arm went around her shoulders. "Luv, it's going to be alright."

She shook her damp head against him. "No, it isn't," she mumbled into his chest. "I don't know what to do, John."

"About the baby?" he asked.

"Partly," came the muffled reply. She hiccupped and swiped at her tears. "Damn baby hormones," she mumbled, causing him to laugh softly. The one thing that Helen Magnus hated above all else was not being in control.

He walked them over to her bed, sat down and pulled her down next to him. "Have you changed your mind about having the baby?" he asked hesitantly.

"No," she wailed and began to cry again, putting her hands over her eyes. She couldn't believe she was behaving this way, crying like a little girl, but all the emotions that she had bottled up for the last two weeks had burst forth and she could not seem to push them back in.

Relieved at her answer, John released the breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Okay, so you still want the baby. That's good. Are you worried about carrying the baby… because of your age? You've mentioned that twice now."

"That is a concern," she sniffled and leaned away to retrieve a handkerchief from her nightstand. While she wiped away her tears, John took the opportunity to remove his damp shirt and reached for her discarded towel to wipe down his chest and arms. "It's been almost thirty years since I've had a child."

"Are you expecting complications?" he asked. Thirty years was a long time to pass between children.

"With the birth?" She sniffled again and paused, thinking about how best to frame her response. "Yes."

His brow creased. "Why?"

She picked the brush up off the bed and twisted it in her hands. "I had some difficulties in delivering Ashley. The cord got wrapped around her throat during the delivery. I had to have an emergency c-section at the last minute."

John blinked. He hadn't known that Ashley's birth had complications. But then again, he didn't much about Ashley's birth or childhood for that matter.

"Her blood pressure dropped dangerously low… as did mine."

"Are you telling me you both almost died?" he asked in alarm.

Helen nodded. "The medical technology available at the time saved us. If I had had her here, during this time period, we both would have probably died. Like my mother and my sibling," she continued softly.

He blanched. The idea of Helen dying in childbirth along with their baby was devastating. And judging from the scared look on her face she obviously thought it was again a possibility.

She stared down at the brush in her hand. "It could happen again, John."

He leaned forward, scratching his beard absently as he stared off across the room. She couldn't have the baby here. It was too much of a risk. They needed to return home… to their correct time period. "If we were back in the 21st century…," he suggested.

She sighed, picked up the brush and began to untangle the ends of her drying hair. "Then I could have the baby monitored regularly for complications and there would be a good chance the birth would be fine. But the only way I know how to do that is to postpone the birth… the way I did with Ashley," she trailed off, once again thinking about her first born.

Hearing her voice faltering, he looked up to see her tear up again. He reached out to grab hold of her hand. "Helen, it will be alright," he tried to reassure her. He would get them home one way or another.

She shook her head as large tears began to trail down her cheeks. "I don't think I can wait that long again, John. It almost killed me to do it the first time." She sniffed loudly and looked up at him. "I think that's why I've been dreaming about her so much."

"Who?" he asked, reaching up to wipe away her tears with his towel.

"Ashley… I've been dreaming about her for over two weeks now," she whispered. More tears began to fall. "She's haunting me."

His hand froze against her cheek. "You've been dreaming about Ashley?" he repeated in surprise.

"Every time I close my eyes. She's always there. Reminding me how much I loved being her mother and…" she stopped and lifted her handkerchief to her nose to blow. She could feel her eyes were swelling from all the crying and she knew her face was red and splotched.

"And..." he prompted.

Sniffing again, she lowered the handkerchief and gave him a mournful look. "And reminding me that I promised her I would always come for her. She's here… in this time period. All I would have to do is take her… but I can't," she wailed and began crying again. "I can't carry both babies at the same time and I can't take her because then my younger self would be devastated and probably try to kill herself. What am I going to do?"

The tears that he'd managed to hold back for so long now began to fall down his cheeks. "You want to save Ashley?" he surmised.

"Yes!" she cried. "I know that makes me a big, fat hypocrite, considering what lengths I went to in order to stop Adam from saving his own child, but I don't care! I want my baby! I want Ashley!" She pulled the towel from his hand and buried her face it in, sobbing loudly. She had finally voiced her inner, dark thoughts to him and wondered what he would say about her selfishness.

After a minute of silence, Helen felt the bed shift as he stood up. Feeling him staring down at her, she lifted her face from the towel to find him looking at her with an oddly relieved expression. "It's about time," John proclaimed, as his hands came to rest on his hips. "I was starting to think you were never going to come around without my hammering the thought into your head."

Shocked, Helen just stared at him. "What?" Her tears stopped as she tried to comprehend he was implying.

"I told you, back in Praxis, that the reason I agreed to help Adam was so that I could go back in time to be with you… to have a family with you. Ashley is our family. Did it never occur to you that I would try to save our child?" he asked as he swiped at his own tears. "She's our first born, Helen. Surely you didn't think I was going to let her die again?"

"How?" she demanded, shifting position to sit up on her knees. "Tell me how? I've racked my brain trying to think of any way I could to save her without destroying the original timeline."

"Oh hang the original timeline," he spat. "I could give a damn about the timeline. I care only about you and our children."

"You didn't answer my question. How? How are you going to save her?" she spat back in frustration. Indeed, she'd gone through every scenario she could think of for days and none had presented an acceptable way to accomplish the deed. "I cannot think of a way to do it!"

"Really?" he asked sarcastically. "You can amass a king's fortune, build an empire of Sanctuaries around the world, rescue and house mythological creatures such as mermaids, create synthetic blood solutions that can prolong both our lives for decades and yet you cannot think of ONE way in which to save our first born? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Not without a time machine!" she yelled back. "Not without a way to alter time!"

His mouth turned up into a wolfish smile. "Interesting that you would say that, my dear," he said in a deadly calm voice. "Most interesting."

Helen's mouth opened to say "Why?" as he reached his arms out to wrap them around her waist. Immediately she felt the tugging sensation that came with teleportation and felt herself disappearing into the ether.


	32. On the Precipice

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 32: On the Precipice

They reappeared in a bedroom decorated in soft, muted colors. Startled by the unexpected change of scenery, Helen glanced quickly about the room as John released his hold on her waist. The bed she sat on was large and comfortable and directly across from it was a large fireplace. "Where, where are we?" she asked, wondering why he had brought her here.

"Home sweet home, for now," he answered, holding out his hand to help her off the bed.

She stared up at him uncertainly. "Why did you bring me here?"

"You'll see," he answered cryptically and waited for her to take his extended hand.

She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure out what he was up to. When he merely stared stone faced at her, she finally allowed him to help her off the tall bed. The room was larger than hers. "This is a nice bedroom," she remarked as she stood barefoot on the white washed wood floor.

"The bed is even nicer," he offered, raising an eyebrow suggestively at her. She flashed him her "are you crazy?" look and, noticing the doorways, chose to peer through the closest one. It turned out to be a roomy, charmingly rustic bathroom with a large tub against one wall. Peering at her reflection in the mirror she groaned. Her hair was a damp, tangled mess and her face was still red from crying earlier. She grabbed a wash towel, dampened it, and pressed it to her eyes.

John stayed where he was, his sharp, eagle eyes trained on her face to see her reaction to his home, which he had chosen in the hopes that it would someday be _their_ home. He was waiting for the moment when she would realize why he had chosen this place.

She turned back to find him staring intensely at her. "Stop that," she ordered, lowering the cloth to frown at him.

"Stop what?" he continued to grin, knowing exactly what she meant.

"You know what. Stop it," she said, wagging her finger at him. For some reason he wanted her to explore his home and, if she was going to oblige him, he was going to stop leering at her like she was on the dinner menu.

"As you wish." He bit down on the corner of his mouth and tried to look appropriately chastised. She wasn't buying it. He motioned towards the other door. "There's more."

Curious, she padded softly to the door. Her deep blue silk robe flared out around her feet as she moved. Behind her, she could feel John's presence and didn't have to turn around to know he was wearing that ridiculous grin again. Why he was so eager to have her here she didn't understand. Perhaps with the baby on the way he was hoping she'd move in with him?

She entered a long, rectangular shaped room with thick, lightly toned stone walls that were lime washed a soft cream. It was a bright and cheerful space. Scattered about on the white washed wood floor were a several cotton woven rugs that lent warmth to the space. The ribcage effect of exposed wooden beams above made the rectangular room feel even more spacious than it was. To her left, she was drawn to the massive fireplace that was centered in the room and ran her hand over the thick cut stone surround. "This must be a least a hundred years old," she muttered.

"I'm not really sure how old this cottage is," he admitted, "but I think most of the architectural elements are original. The ceiling's my favorite part. You don't see this in modern homes… not that we have any of those available currently."

With one hand still on the stone, she turned and immediately focused in on the windows on the opposite wall. As if in a trance, she moved to the windows to verify what she thought she saw. Pushing one of the windows open, she took in the clear blue skies with not another structure in sight. Far below, white capped waves collided against the shoreline. The cottage, it appeared, resided on a cliff above the sea. The sound of the crashing waves and the smell of the salty sea carried up by the wind assaulted her senses. The faint cries of seagulls winging through the air completed the picturesque scene.

Helen's dimple appeared as a smile lit up her face for the first time that day. It had been a long time since she'd been by the English seaside. She was pretty sure they were in England. "John, where exactly are we?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the lovely view before her. While she loved the semi-wild countryside where her cottage resided, there was nothing quite like being by the sea.

"Just north of Canterbury," he shared, leaning against one of the window frames as he happily stared down at her. She loved the place, he could see it clearly upon her face. "What do you think?"

"It's beautiful," she answered and looked back up at him. "But you knew I'd feel that way when you chose this place, didn't you?"

He smiled at her and reached out a finger to twist around one of her tangled curls. "I did promise you a cottage by the sea, once upon a time."

She bit the inside of her bottom lip and lowered her eyes, focusing back on the sea view below. He did bring her here in the hopes of getting her to live with him. She wasn't ready for such a drastic move. Though they'd renewed their relationship over the past year and she was expecting his baby, she had lived over a century and a half as an independent woman. The only man she had ever lived under one roof with as a couple was, ironically, James Watson, and that had been over forty years ago. They had loved one another dearly, but they were both too independent, too much alike to remain a couple. They both liked to be in control. They were, however, perfect partners in their Sanctuary endeavors. No one else had ever matched James as her equal in her life's work… well, maybe her father but he was out of her life more than he had been in it during her adult years.

She and John, on the other hand, also loved one another and in many ways they were much alike… yet opposite in many other ways. It was some of those opposite traits that kept them drawn to one another and balanced their relationship out. They were just complicated, in every way.

As she was contemplating their complicated past, John slowly eased closer and patiently awaited her reaction. He knew the mentioning of his promise would bring out melancholy thoughts of the love lost from their youth. She was hardly going to give up her home just because he brought her here now. That wasn't the reason for this first visit anyway. Their co-habitation would happen one way or another, and it hardly mattered whose home it would occur in. By the time the baby arrived John would be firmly ensconced in whatever home she and the child occupied, whether Helen liked it or not. He was determined that he would not to be separated from them. His child would know he was their father from their first moment into this world.

The intoxicating scent of lavender drew him closer, causing him to lean forward to smell her hair. She felt him nuzzling her hair and his fingers playing with the end of her long, dark, red curls. "My hair is a fright. You wouldn't happen to have a comb or brush, would you?" she asked, finally looking up at him once more.

"I may be able to find you one," he answered with a soft teasing tone. "You could use a good combing," he agreed as his hand got caught in some of her messy curls.

Helen wrinkled her nose up at him as he freed his hand. "I was in the midst of combing my hair when I was rudely interrupted and spirited away," she reminded him. "The least you could do is provide me a brush and some biscuits."

"Biscuits?"

"I'm hungry," she confessed. "Some tea wouldn't hurt either," she suggested.

John gave her a low bow. "Your wish is my command." She watched appreciatively as his long, lean legs carried him away to the right side of the fireplace, where he disappeared into what she guessed was the kitchen.

Forcing herself to turn away from the watery view, she turned back to the cottage itself. The antique furniture was mismatched and somewhat worn but looked comfortable. The unusual sight of a blackboard and a wooden table at the end of the room caught her attention. Slowly, she padded her way towards them, coming to a stop in front of the blackboard. It was completely covered with scrawls of mathematical equations and numerous small notes that were like footnotes for certain parts of the equations.

There was something oddly familiar about the equations, she thought. Or was it one long equation? The more she stared at it the more she felt a nagging feeling that she should know what this was. The notes were in Latin, not English, which in itself was strange.

So engrossed was she in trying to solve the blackboard puzzle that she did not hear Druitt come up behind her. Gently, he set the tea tray onto the table and watched her for a bit before calling attention to his presence by pulling out a wooden chair from underneath the table. He figured she had had enough time to work out an idea of what was scribbled on the blackboard. It had been a good 10 minutes since he'd left the room to boil the water.

Helen whirled around at the sound. Motioning back to the board, she demanded, "What is this?"

He shrugged and began pouring them both a cup of tea. "Just a little hobby I have been working on."

"Your hobby is trying to figure out how to do a time jump?" she asked incredulously. "That's what this is, isn't it? You're trying to figure out how Adam was able to program his continuum device to a certain time and place, aren't you?"

John motioned to the ready tea and pulled out a chair on for her to sit. "I'm not _trying _to figure out how, my dear. I already figured out _how_," he answered with a smirk. "Your tea's ready. Sit and we can discuss this if you like."

"Oh, we're going to discuss this, all right," she insisted, narrowing her eyes at him as she sat down in the chair he pulled out for her. What was he up to? He had the two things he wanted - a relationship with her and they were on their way to having a family again. Why would he be working on deciphering Worth's time travel formula? It made no sense.

John placed the steaming cup in front of her as well as an empty plate. Indicating the larger plate on the tray containing an assortment of biscuits, crusty bread, butter and cheese, he said, "Please, help yourself," and sat across next to her. He nonchalantly tore off a large piece of the bread, buttered it and added some of the cheese to his plate, ignoring the piercing look she aimed his way.

"Did you really figure out how to program the continuum device?"

He nodded, pulling a smaller chuck of bread off and popping it into his mouth. Sure, he could just tell her everything but what was the fun in that. She might get creative in her interrogation techniques.

"Why? What good is figuring out the formula if you don't have the device?" she inquired as she helped herself to some of the food. She was going to eat as much as she could while her stomach felt stable.

He raised an eyebrow at her seductively. "What makes you think I don't already have a device, hmm?" He bit down on a large square of cheese as one corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. For once he actually had the upper hand.

"You built one?" This part she had a hard time believing. Solving the math equation, yes. Having the scientific knowledge to create it by himself, no. "I don't think so," she shook her head. "Science and engineering were never your strong suit," she smugly pointed out. Those were her and Tesla's areas of expertise. "Hmm, these biscuits are yummy, by the way."

"I didn't have to. I already have one," he volleyed back, annoyed by her implication that he wasn't clever enough to actually build one. She should know by now that if he wanted something he would find a way to get it accomplished.

"You already have one? From where?" As soon the words left her mouth she mentally flashed back to the warehouse confrontation with Worth. John had held Adam's daughter captive as a bargaining chip. Which meant that he had located where Worth was living with the girl… and where he was working.

John peered at her over the rim of his cup as he took a long sip. He could see from the flashing of her deep blue eyes that she was working out what had happened. Pity. He was hoping for a more challenging match of mental chess.

"Adam!" she exhaled loudly and flopped back against her chair. "You stole the continuum device from Adam, didn't you?" she accused, laying her hands flat on the table and glaring at him. "And you've been sitting on it this whole time, haven't you?"

He grinned. She was rather sexy when she was all hot and bothered, particularly with her red hair all mussed up around her face like one of those dreamy, haughty women in a Klimt painting. "Stealing is such a harsh charge. The items were there, on the table. I merely picked them up." He lifted his cup back up to his mouth. "It's not as if Adam was going to need them again. Not with you so determined to exterminate the little rodent."

"I only did what was necessary. It was either him or myself and James. Adam was determined to kill us both because of his perceived grudge against us for not saving Imogene the first time. And don't change the subject."

"Which is?" he asked as he reached for the last biscuit at the same time she reached for it. They stared at one another as each held onto the biscuit.

"You're really going to deny a pregnant woman the last biscuit?" she finally asked, tilting her head and giving him a small frown.

"Well, when you put it that way, of course not," John said with a bow of his head as he released his hold on the biscuit. "You could have just asked for it rather than give me a guilt trip," he countered as he reached for the last bit of cheese.

She gave him a little smirk. He was going to be easier to manipulate now that she was carrying his child. This could be fun… except for his over protectiveness. That was going to be a major pain as she got heavier with child. "There are three golden rules that pertain to a pregnant woman, as all expectant fathers know. You just broke the third one." She bit the biscuit in half, gave a little murmur of appreciation and waited for his reaction.

John leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out under the table. "I can't wait to hear this one. So, what are these three so-called golden rules pertaining to a pregnant woman that every man is supposed to know?" Maybe they were going to have some fun after all. The coloring in her face had gone back to its normal porcelain complexion and the little twinkle in her eyes made her appear even sexier. Her back was to the windows and the late afternoon sun shining through gave her halo glow around her messy red locks.

"Golden Rule #3 is that nothing stands between a pregnant woman and her next meal," Helen advised, pointing the last half of the biscuit at him before pushing it into her mouth with a grin. His legs were resting on either side of her chair and she shifted in her seat to lift her bare feet onto his lap.

Eyebrow lifting, he smirked. "I will keep that in mind in the future." His breath caught as one of her feet moved to rest next to his crotch and stroked him.

"Golden Rule #2 is that the pregnant woman is always right," Helen continued, placing her other foot on the other side of his crotch and stroking him once more. She smirked as he shifted in his seat and loudly hitched is breath.

John cleared his throat. It seems their mental game of one up-man ship had shifted to a more physical version. He so did love sparring with her. "I see. And what, pray tell, is rule #1?" He resisted the urge to grab at her feet and decided to just enjoy the soft strokes from her bare feet.

They were sitting across from to one another and she leaned in closer, a seductive little smile playing on her lips. She could tell he was enjoying her little ministrations under the table. "Golden Rule #1 is the most important of all," she advised in her low, lilting British tone that drove him wild, and stroked him with both feet. She licked her bottom lip and bit it as she watched in satisfaction as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair and groan.

"Indeed? And what would that be?" he inquired in a tighter voice as his eyes zeroed in on her exquisite mouth. She was working him up and if she didn't stop soon he was going to have to grab her and toss her across the table to finish what she had started.

"Golden Rule #1 is that what the pregnant woman wants, she gets," Helen cooed and pressed both feet against his manhood, causing his eyes to widen in surprise.

"Helen," he groaned, placing his large hands on her feet in warning. He was reacting faster to her touch than he had anticipated.

"And when in doubt about rule #1, always refer to rule #2," she finished, squeezing him again, causing him to buck a little and hiss. "And do you want to know what the pregnant woman wants right now… at this very moment, hmmm?"

He grabbed and stilled her feet, panting lightly. "What?" Any more pressure from her and he was not going to be responsible for his actions.

Leaning back, Helen lazily picked up her brush from the tea tray. John must have zipped back to her home to retrieve it while he was making the tea. "The pregnant woman wants to know what the hell you were planning to do with Adam's continuum device and when you were planning to her about it!" Abruptly, she pulled her feet away to tuck them under her seat. "And don't leave out any of the details," she warned, flashing him a fiery look as she began to untangle her hair. She quietly chuckled as his face darkened with the knowledge that she had purposefully worked him up never intending to give him full satisfaction.

"That was totally uncalled for," he growled as he shifted again and tried to get his lower half under control.

Turning her head to the side as she gently stroked her hair to work out the tangles, she peered up at him through her long lashes. "Oh, I think it was totally called for. Now start talking, mister!"

He laughed roughly as he slumped back down into his chair and grabbed a hold of the arms of his chairs. Damn she was good he thought as he watched her brush her silken locks. For a few minutes the only sound in the room was her brushing and his deep inhaling and exhaling. His breathing was almost back to normal when she spoke again. "Do you need a cold shower?"

He snorted. "I believe I shall be fine… but you owe me," he demanded and leveled an affectionate smile at her.

Lying her brush down to sweep her hair over to the left side of her head, Helen returned his affectionate smile. He was going to get even with her for this she knew but it was worth it to remind him that for all of his cleverness she was still his equal match.

"Shall we retire to the couch?" he suggested, stiffly pulling himself up out of his chair. "This small, wooden chair is hard on the back." He replaced their cups back on the tray and carried it over to the whitewashed trunk that served as a coffee table.

She was more than happy to change locations. "Fine by me. My backside could use a softer seat to rest upon."

He laughed. "A most fine backside it is too, madam," he complimented as she sat down next to him and curled her feet under her.

"Thank you, my dear sir. Now spill!" she ordered again as she settled down against the cushions.

John reached for the teapot and poured them both another cup as he recounted locating Worth's flat, grabbing the girl for their confrontation in the warehouse, and returning later that night to retrieve Adam's work. "I left behind a few trivial trinkets for James to find and brought the bulk of Adam's work here."

"And then what did you do?" she prompted. It had never occurred to her to go back the flat and sort through Worth's makeshift laboratory. Obviously it had occurred to both men. James had told her later when they were on the roof that he had disposed of any evidence of the existence of future Adam.

"I worked on deciphering the formula to project the time jump. Well, I guess that's the wrong term. It's not really so much a jump as an opening of the door to the right time and place," he mused. "A delicate balance to it get right."

They were both turned towards one another on the couch, seated closely. "And have you gotten it right?" she asked softly, her mind whirling away with the possibilities the device opened before them.

"I have," he confidently assured her. He could see her absorbing the information and pushing it around in her head. So many possibilities to explore.

"And you waited until now to tell me about it because…"

He exhaled a deep breath. "Ashley. You weren't ready to interfere with our child's fate until today. We may only have one shot at it. Timing was everything."

Her forehead pressed into a frown. "You think the device only works once?"

"There were two glass containers. One was empty and had been shattered with a bullet hole… your work I've no doubt," he guessed, not at all surprised when she nodded and said, "I did hit the case in our weapons exchange but I hadn't known that it penetrated the metal coating."

A sudden thought struck her. "That must have been why he hung around so long. He was rebuilding the casing. Twice I missed my opportunity to kill Adam and I was so afraid that I'd lost the chance when one of James's street children sighted him in the east quarter. He was working with his makeshift lab when I arrived at the flat to confront him."

"I arrived just as the child was exiting the door to follow after you both. I followed her, saw you, Worth and James entering the building and grabbed the girl before she could enter. That's how we happened to appear on the mezzanine a short time later." He exhaled another deep breath and reached out his hand to grip her knee. "If I hadn't managed to grab Imogene at the right time Adam might have succeeded in killing both you and James before I could stop him," he said in a shaky tone. The thought of the two people he loved most dead struck him hard to his core.

"But you did," she reminded him, placing her hand on his and stroking it. "So the second glass container, it is completely intact?"

He nodded. "Adam must have just completed it right before the warehouse confrontation. The casing and liquid are identical to the one I left for you in the Praxian shuttle."

"Okay," she breathlessly uttered as hope began to fill her. "We have one complete continuum device and you've figured out how to program it. So all we need is to find a power source to activate it."

"Not quite," John answered. "We still need to build the support for the device. The two have to be joined together before the electricity is applied."

Helen frowned. "Why haven't you built the support? Were you waiting until I came on board?"

John groaned and flopped his head back against the couch in agitation. "I haven't built it because I cannot decipher Worth's damn code! His notebook is written in a code known only to him. I've figured out a few words here and there but only because I understood the mathematical elements that pertain to programming the device. The rest of it I haven't gotten very far with. And believe me, I have tried!" He gave her a wry smile. "As you mentioned earlier science and engineering were never my strong suit."

She scrunched up her eyes thoughtfully and said, "So, we need to decipher the notebook. That could take some time, depending on how difficult Adam's code is to crack." Time was not on their side. They needed to get back to the future with enough time to spare for her to safely deliver their child.

"Time is of the essence," he agreed, knowing exactly what she was thinking.

"Yes," she agreed, staring blankly off into space. So much to do and so little time to do it in.

He studied her lovely face as she mentally tackled the problem on hand. She was the most brilliant woman he had ever known. Quite possibly one of the most brilliant persons to live in the last decade. She was clever, resourceful and could be ruthless if necessary. If anyone could decipher Adam's code it was her. She would find the means, one way or another.

After a while, she looked back up at him. "Show me the notebook," she ordered.

"What do you plan to do with it?" he inquired seriously. He was pretty sure he knew but a small worried part of him still felt the need to ask. "Crack it or chuck it out the window?"

They stared at one another for a long, tense moment. Finally she answered. "I'm going to use it to save our first born, of course."


	33. Stormy Weather

Author's Note: This chapter is a little side interlude in the story that I have insert for Adria626, who wanted a little more romance. Be forewarned that this chapter is a very strong T [and hopefully not crossing the line into an M] rating.

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 33: Stormy Weather

Three weeks had passed since John had made his shocking confession regarding the continuum device. Helen now stood before one of her open living room windows in a highly frustrated state. She was making some progress with Adam's notebook, thanks in part to the sketch of the device's support system tucked part way into the back of the notebook. The notations on the sketch helped her crack a few more words beyond what John had already deciphered. However, the progress was going much too slow. She was now entering the third month of her first trimester, or so she figured, and the weight of time was pressing down heavily upon her. Ideally, she would prefer that they return to the future before the middle part of her second trimester but at the rate she was going that was not going to happen.

Panting lightly, she flapped the open collars of her summer dress to cool herself. Though it was almost the end of May and the severe heat of summer had not yet even begun she was already having issues with the heat. Twice she'd had dizzy spells this week and knew it was because of the heat. John's home, with its ideal location on the coast, would offer better relief from the heat but she was not yet ready to give up her own home nor the independence that came with it. So here she was, with her long hair pinned up in a messy bun, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth as she panted like a dog, and her hands fluttering like butterfly wings against her dress lapels trying to cool herself. What she wouldn't give for air conditioning right now. The increasingly darkening skies and abundant clouds were promising the possibility of momentary relief in the form of an early summer storm.

Behind her, scattered on the coffee table, were her handwritten notes in Latin and copies of pages from Worth's notebook. John had refused to allow her to take the original notebook from his home, pointing out that two would-be thieves had already tried to rob her once. If the notebook were to be stolen or damaged by outsiders they would lose their chance to return home and save their first born. She couldn't really argue against his reasoning, though it had been time consuming to painstakingly copy the pages by hand and to make all of her notes in Latin rather than in English. If strangers did get a hold of any of her pages they would have to translate everything before they discovered that they would not be able to make head or tails of what the notes were truly about anyway.

A strong, sudden wind whipped by, caused her to close her eyes and enjoy the cool air. Her eyes flew open as she heard the sound of papers fluttering behind her and she turned just in time to see her notes scatter about onto the floor. Quickly shutting the windows, she hurried over and began collecting her errant papers. She was on her knees, hands fishing underneath the couch for two of her papers when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, alerting her to another's presence in the room.

"Now there's quite the view to greet a lonely man," a deep, throaty voice hailed. John grinned as he looked down upon at his woman who was obviously trying to retrieve something from underneath the living room couch. Her bottom was nicely poised up in the air with her naked feet to knees showing as her dress had gathered around her knees. "You do have the most glorious bum, my dear," he praised, his smile widening as she turned on her elbows to peer up at him, thus giving him a nice view down the unbuttoned front of her gown.

Helen, grabbing her papers, eased back up onto her knees and straightened her back to push out her chest, giving him a smirk. "Thank you, my good sir, but I believe my breasts are far more glorious," she flirted confidently with a raise of her eyebrow.

He gave a cheerful bark of laughter. "You will never hear any complaints in regards to your breasts from me, I can safely assure you," he said as he extended his hand to help her up. "May I inquire what you were doing on the floor?"

"The wind scattered my notes and I was retrieving them," she explained as she stood up next to him. She gave him a sweet smile as she extended her hand and gently rubbed the back of it against his cheek. "You've cut your hair and trimmed your beard. Any special occasion?"

"A man should always look his best when courting," John smoothly replied, enjoying her warm touch against his freshly shaven cheek. His beard was short and trimmed thinly around his mouth, exposing more of his face than it had since of his arrival back in time.

Now it was her turn to widen her smile. "Oh, are we still courting?" she asked innocently and batted her thick, dark lashes at him. They had both been so engrossed in solving the problem of Worth's notes that little in the way of intimacy had occurred between them in the passing weeks.

As his arms snaked slowly around her waist to cross behind and pull her closer, Helen realized how much she missed his touch and gave a contented sigh. "A smart man continues to remind his mate that he is always courting her," John smugly answered and lowered his mouth to capture her inviting lips before she could protest.

His subtle hints at co-habitation had been ignored thus far, which wasn't yet a major concern as his teleporting afforded him the luxury of being wherever he wanted whenever he wanted. However, once they were back in the future that could change. Helen would have the availability of the EM field technology and could decide to use it to keep him at bay should he fall out of favor with her. He was determined to remind her as often as possible that he was the mate that she had chosen to be with and have a family with. He would remind her that she belonged to him as often as it was necessary.

They both gulped for much needed air as their lips pulled apart. "I am properly reminded," she murmured as her arms slid around his neck and she leaned back to stare into his handsome face. She was slightly dizzy from the short lack of oxygen caused by the deep kiss.

"Good," he replied, swatting her backside playfully with one hand before both hands came to rest on her bottom possessively. "Now, tell me, what have you been up to while I've been away paying a visit to the good doctor?"

Groaning, she lowered her hands to his chest and dropped her head backwards as she whined, "Cursing the fates, that's what I've been doing. Nothing productive!"

He chuckled. "Ah. So no new progress made I take it?"

"No," she whined again. "I'm stuck, John, and I don't know what to do!" Her nose was crinkled up in frustration and her lips pinched up into a little pout. She looked so adorable that he bent his head to steal another kiss, smiling against her lips as a protest of surprising escaped her.

Pushing away from him, Helen gave him a disgruntled frown. "I'm serious, John. I'm stuck! A kiss, no matter how excellent, isn't of help at this moment. I need a miracle!"

His hands latched back onto her bottom and gave a hard squeeze, earning him a swat on the arm by his lover. "An excellent kiss, huh?" he beamed down at her, pleased by her admission that he was an excellent kisser. Seeing her about to fuss at him, John changed tactics. "I come bearing a gift," he declared, reluctantly releasing his hold on her bottom to step back from her and reach into his right pocket.

She gave him a questioning look as his closed, upturned fist came out of his pocket to be held up clearly in her line of sight. Slowly, he opened his fist, smiling as he heard her loud gasp.

"My mother's cross!" Helen squealed, snatching the necklace from his palm and holding it up to dangle from her hand. She had lost it at some point during her struggle with Franco and never thought she would see it again. "Where did you find it?" she asked breathlessly, her deep, blue eyes sparkling as she stared at the reflective gold piece.

"About two hundred feet away from the spot where we were picnicking," John said, removing the necklace from her hand and undoing the latch. "It took several days to locate it and the chain was broken beyond repair. James was so good as to help me locate a suitable replacement chain," he continued as he stepped behind her to lower the necklace around her throat and close the clasp.

Helen felt tears gathering in her eyes as her hand came up to touch the cross. It was one of the few items she had left of the mother she could barely remember. The delicate, small golden cross was in the unusual shape of a Coptic ankh. The ankh heralding back to her father's belief that life was sacred even in its most bizarre and unattractive form. Turning her head, she gave John a watery smile. "Thank you," she whispered gratefully.

"You are most welcome, my love," he whispered back and leaned in to kiss her nose. Before he could do so, both jumped when a loud clap of thunder sounded above.

Helen gave an exclamation of surprise and stepped away, bustling quickly toward the kitchen. "Ollie. I need to give him his dinner before the storm arrives," she threw over her shoulder as she headed to the back door on her way to the small stable that stood to the east of her home. Behind her, she could hear John coming to a stop in her kitchen to close the two open windows against the oncoming storm.

Her dress whirled around her as she pressed forward against the growing winds to rush towards the wooden stable. Above, more rumbles of thunder rippled across the sky and large drops of rain began to fall. By the time she got inside the stable her gown was soaked through. Helen gave a small chuckle as Ollie's head popped through his stall and he greeted her with a loud raspberry noise. The gray horse, with his white spots and shaggy, beige mane of hair, tossed his head impatiently and pawed at the ground. He didn't like the sound of the thunder and rain lashing his home but the stable was well built and now that his human was here his only concern was his dinner, which was late. Lifting his head, he gave out a loud neighing and snorted a demand for his meal. He wasn't named after Oliver Twist for nothing. He was always ready for more food.

Laughing, Helen tapped her hand against his soft muzzle. "Alright, I'll get your meal, your highness." Brusquely she set about filling his trough, thankful that she had cleaned his stall and water bucket earlier that day. Task completed, she leaned her elbows onto the doorway of Ollie's stall and patted his gentle head as he loudly chomped down on his feed. "I need to buy you some apples the next time we're in town," she muttered, laughing again as he raised he head to give her another loud raspberry noise as if to agree with her statement.

She rubbed her upper arms with her hands when her teeth began to chatter as she shivered against her wet gown. It was so ironic that not an hour earlier she was contemplating walking around stark naked in her house to combat the oppressive heat.

A pair of large hands suddenly wrapped a big, warm blanket around her and effectively pinned her against the stall. "You are going to catch a cold," a familiar voice gruffly reprimanded by her right ear. "A little precaution if you please, madam."

Turning her head, she kissed his cheek and murmured seductively, "So, warm me up then, monsieur." She felt his mouth turn up into a smile and giggled as he nuzzled into her neck and began to kiss her. She gasped as his lips located her pulse point and fastened on to suckle while his hands came to rest over her breasts and squeezed. "John," she moaned as his lips moved further down her long, elegant throat.

"Yes?" he murmured as he turned her round, still keeping her pinned against the stall door, to kiss her properly on the lips.

"Wet dress," she said between kisses, "Off… now," she demanded as his left hand threaded into her messy bun to pull her head to the side, giving him better access to her neck once more.

"In a minute, woman," he responded, nipping at her neck between deep kisses. Her unique taste was something he craved and had never tired of, not even after a century following his first sweet taste. "So impatient," he bantered and squeezed her breasts again. He could tell from the quickening pace of her breath and little moans that she was receptive to his amorous play. Slowly, his mouth moved down toward her cleavage as he marked her in the passionate way men had marked their women since the beginning of time.

Helen clutched at his dry shirt while keeping the blanket around her and arched her back as much as she could against the stall door. "What part of now are you not understanding, old man?" she bantered back and gasped loudly as he bit her left nipple through her wet dress.

Chuckling, he pushed aside her damp gown to reveal her left breast. "No undergarments? Simply shocking, madam," he praised, thrilled at the unexpected discovery. His tongue lapped at her nipple, causing her to hiss and arch her back again.

"I was hot," she hissed again as he began to suckle on her. "These bloody gowns are miserable in the summer. And I do have knickers on," she offered in her own defense as her right hand threaded into his short hair to hold him against her.

A loud, smacking raspberry sound near her left ear caused her to jump, which in turn caused her lover to lose his hold on her breast. Helen giggled as Ollie neighed and nudged at her with his large head. "Ollie, stop!" she giggled again, trying to push the horse's head away as he nibbled on her hair. "I am not a carrot."

John straightened and grinned at the horse, whose head was virtually resting on Helen's shoulder. He reached over and patted the beast's muzzle. "Sorry, old boy but this is a strictly two person activity. No third parties allowed," he joked, giving the horse one last stroke on the head before teleporting himself and Helen away.

She blinked as they reappeared next to her bed. Smacking him on the chest, Helen reminded him that they had agreed to limit her teleporting while she was pregnant. "Sorry, luv, but I couldn't wait to walk back in the rain to the house," he admitted. "And that stable's far too small for a good, proper roll in the hay."

"There's no such thing as a 'proper' roll in the hay," she laughed as she began to unbutton his shirt in the dim room. Outside, rain lashed angrily at the window and down upon the roof. Thunder reigned down from the heavens and the air felt heavy with electricity. If ever there was a perfect setting for lovemaking this was it. Helen loved the dynamic feeling that storms induced.

As she had dropped the blanket upon their arrival, John set about quickly removing her dress, wanting no material to separate her body from his.

"Now who's impatient," she smirked, squealing as he suddenly scooped her up off the floor.

"I'm a starving man who's gone far too long without a good meal," he leered down at her as he gently tossed her across the bed and quickly poised himself over her nearly naked form. "Nice knickers," he commented, giving her a cheeky grin.

She stretched out her arms above her head and gave him a seductive feline grin. "Yes, they are. Now take them off," she demanded. "And my slippers."

"As my lady wishes," he happily agreed, kissing his way down her stomach to remove the obstructive scrap of lace and mud splattered satin slippers. He paused at her stomach, stroking it with his palm as he stared down with a wondrous look on his face. His child was nestled in there he thought. A lopsided grin overtook his features and he leaned down to place a few reverent kisses on her stomach. He then stood and worked on divesting himself of his own clothing and shoes.

"John, I'm cold," she complained with a pout. He was taking far too long to undress.

"No shoes in bed is your rule, not mine," he retorted as he kicked off his leather shoes before climbing back onto the bed. "Now where were we?" he purred. "Ah yes," he said, lowering himself down to claim her left breast again.

Her eyes fluttered closed as her left hand ran through his hair while her right hand messaged down his sinewy back. This felt so good. He felt so good against her.

Their hunger for one another made short of their foreplay as their bodies began to move against the other's, ungraceful at first until they were able to match their rhythms. Her hands fisted themselves into the bedcover as John griped her hips and eased himself into her. They moved against one another as they slowly made love. She mewled as the friction between their now sweaty bodies rubbed her the right way.

Helen could sense that he wanted more, to be more aggressive in his lovemaking but was hesitant due to her expectant state. He had made sure that his entire weight was not pressed down upon her. She pushed up against him, knocking him off rhythm as she tried to urge him to move faster. "More, John," she coaxed, "I want more."

"If you insist," he hoarsely responded, suddenly surging harder into her and causing her to cry out. Their pace picked up and together they worked their way to completion. She fell over the edge first, sinking her nails into his shoulder as she cried out in pleasure. He soon followed, grunting loudly as he felt himself consumed with pleasure.

"I love you," he harshly whispered in her ear as he rested his head next to hers and gathered her against his side.

"I love you too," she repeated back, giving him a kiss to his upper cheek. They both laughed as a loud, growling rumble of thunder sounded outside the window as if to egg them on. The storm appeared to not be anywhere nearing its ending.

"Give me a minute," he said to the sky, "I'm an old man."

"He's positively ancient," she giggled, gasping as he smacked her bare bottom. He did rather like to grope her bottom.

"Says the woman who's a year older than me," he retorted.

"I am older," she agreed, peering up at him as she turned to curl into his side. "And yet I am always the first to recover and be ready to start again. What does that say about you, hmm?"

"It says that I am in love with an insatiable, wonton woman," he answered, crushing her to him as his lips possessively claimed hers. More thunder rippled across the sky as the lovers became lost in one another once more.


	34. Partners in Crime

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 34: Partners in Crime

In a foul mood, Helen stomped unlady-like into the entry hallway, barely acknowledging the servant who opened the door as she made her way to her father's study. She ungracefully pried her expensive leather gloves off her small hands and, coming to a halt by Gregory's study door, stopped to take a deep breath in an attempt to slow down her racing heart and even faster racing temper. The nerve of that man she repeated like a mantra.

At her father's "Come," Helen took another deep breath before twisting the knob on the heavy wooden door to enter.

Glancing up from his paperwork, Gregory Magnus brightened at the sight of his only child. "Ah, there you are, my dear. How was your evening?" he greeted amiably.

"Awful," she declared as she sank dramatically into one of the two chairs facing his desk. "The whole evening was an exercise in frustration." She dropped her gloves in her lap and looked over at him forlorn.

"Oh. I am sorry to hear that your evening did not turn out as well as you had hoped," her father replied, standing up and coming around the desk to sit next to her. "Was there any particular reason for dismal turn of events?"

"Honestly, father, if one more man tells me that a woman's place is in the home and that I should not bother my pretty, little head with thoughts far above my intelligence level I shall scream," she complained, shaking her head of golden curls.

"The men discounted your opinions?" he guessed, not at all surprised by her pout as a response to his question. "And I take it Baptiste was among those?" Gregory was fond of the only son of his close friend, Louis Pasteur, but it had been clear to him for quite a while now that the boy was not a suitable match for his Helen. Her godfather, Louis, was starting to suspect this as well.

"Why could I not have been born a man?" she asked with a long face. She had been so excited when Baptiste had invited her to attend the reception at the science forum. However, he had not been overly thrilled whenever she tried to participate in any of the conversations that were not socially the norm for women of their time. He was attractive, attentive and polite but she had been nothing more than a pretty accessory on his arm for the evening. The night had only proved that they were not a suitable match, despite their fathers looking favorably upon on the pairing.

Gregory sympathized with his daughter's plight. "God chose for you to be born a woman, not a man," he said, patting her hand. "You will just have to figure out your own way to know why. Personally, I am quite satisfied with having a daughter and not a son."

She blew out a loud sigh. "The only option open to women is either marriage or the convent. I certainly don't want the latter." She gave her father an earnest look. "And perhaps I may never find the former?"

"A suitable partner is difficult to find," he said with a solemn nod at his eighteen year old daughter. Though she was still a mere child in his eyes, to the rest of society she was a young woman ready for a suitable match in matrimony. "What you should understand, my dear girl, is that the perfect pairing is one in which both parties are able to achieve their goals, whatever they may be. It should include both affection and respect and, if one is very lucky, love." He gave her hand a squeeze. "Remember that and you will eventually get what you want."

"Yes, father," Helen answered, giving him a wistful smile. Marriage was not actually what she wanted at the moment. It was admittance to Oxford University, a goal far loftier than matrimony, which as far as she was concerned was easily attainable should one truly want it. Her big, blue eyes held her father's gaze. "Did you find mother a suitable match from the start?"

Gregory gave her a rare boyish grin. "I did… once she stopped hiding behind her fan to look me in the eye and tell me what she truly thought."

Helen giggled. "I cannot imagine mother hiding behind a fan from you."

He wrinkled up his brows as he reflected. "Looking back on our early courting days, neither can I," he laughed. "You are so much like her, you know," he said, looking at her with a hint of sadness in his eyes. Gregory had no doubt that his daughter would find a suitable partner in her life and in her work, which he knew was of growing importance to her though she had yet to fully vocalize it to him. She was far too beautiful, like her mother, to remain unattached in life. He leaned in closer and gently tapped her affectionately on her nose. "You are going to have to decide what you want in life and go after it. Whatever you set your clever mind to I know you will achieve."

"You truly believe that?" she asked hopefully.

"I do," he firmly answered. "Just remember. The right partner makes all the difference."

Helen groggily opened her eyes, momentarily confused on where she was. A heavy weight was pressing down upon her chest and pinning her in place. Glancing down, she beheld a man's head resting upon her chest and his arm sprawled across her hip. She froze and her pulse quickened. Why in the world was she asleep in bed with John Druitt… and, dear Lord, why were they naked?

Taking a deep breath, the cobwebs in her drowsy mind began to clear away. The only sounds she could make out were the soft tapping of light rain against her window and the deep, steady breathing of her lover. Everything was coming back to her now. She was trapped back in time… with John… and they were desperately trying to return home in time for her to have their second child. Only neither of them could solve the puzzle that was Worth's notebook.

John gave a low moan as she shifted to ease his weight off to her side. Helen wrapped her right arm around his head and lovingly stroked his cheek. Her heartbeat was returning a normal pace and she used the calm, quiet time to plot her next move. Her father had told her in her youth that the perfect pairing was one in which both parties were able to achieve their goals. Well, she had a difficult journey before her and she needed a partner who could help them make it through the maze unscathed. John would be able to calibrate the device to get them home but the more complex aspects of planning and executing her desired course of action would require someone of more a methodical, strategic intellect. Helen smiled sleepily. She knew exactly which individual they would need to bring on board. It would require finesse, manipulation and possibly some tears but she felt that in the end she would succeed. Snuggling in closer to John, Helen closed her eyes and sank back into slumber, dreaming once again of her beloved father.

It was now two days later. For the last three hours, Helen had bustled about in her kitchen, making sure that everything was just perfect for her arriving guest. This evening was of extreme importance. Everything had to go just right. All of their futures depended upon it. She had not been able to solve the problem on her own or with John's help. She now would call upon the one person who could help her unravel this giant mess.

She was just passing the doorway into the living room when the flare of red announced the arrival of her guests. Helen lit up at the sight of the two handsome men standing in the middle of her living room and made her way towards them, her pale, pink summer gown swishing elegantly as she walked.

"Hello, my dear," John called, leaning in to give her quick kiss on the cheek. "You lovely this evening."

Helen gave him a little courtesy in thanks before turning to James, who had a little frown on his face. "I still do not like that feeling," he grumbled to his friend about teleporting. "It makes me feel all disoriented, like I'm being sucked into and out of a whirlpool."

John merely shrugged. "It's an acquired taste."

"Like you, I suppose," Watson dryly quipped, causing his best friend to grin like a fool, before he turned his full attention to the beautiful redhead that was both the blessing and the bane of his existence. "Helen," James cheerfully greeted, stepping over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Hello, James," she greeted back. "I am so glad you that could come tonight."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," he winked as he extended the bouquet of pink roses. "For my lovely hostess." When Druitt had asked him to come dine with them curiosity prevented him from declining the invitation, not that he would have anyway. The unpredictability and cleverness of the pair kept him on his toes, something the vast majority of the populous failed to do. It was a large part of the reason he had been drawn into what became The Five. The group's infinite quest to know about everything and anything in the universe was the magnet that had pulled them together in the first place. It was their adoration of Helen that had kept those four strong personalities together as long as feasible before their egos and personal desires had called them onto their separate paths.

"They're lovely," Helen gushed, taking a deep sniff of the intoxicating floral scent. James grinned as he observed John rolling his eyes to Helen's enthusiastic reaction. If he could please Helen while at the same time annoying John he was doing something right the sleuth thought to himself in amusement.

"You look well," James appraised as he gave her a once over. She looked quite lovely tonight with her hair tumbling down her shoulders unrestricted and her gown in the softest shade of pink that stood in stark contrast to her dark, red locks.

"Anything would be an improvement considering the state of my being the last time you saw me," she said with a laugh.

"Your wounds have all healed? No nasty after effects?" he asked tentatively. Though Druitt had assured him that she had recovered a small part of Watson still worried about long term effects from the abnormal's vicious bite.

"Yes to the first question. No physical ones to the second. I can't say that I'm not a bit put off by sallowed-skinned half human, half lizard men now after my encounter with Franco," she answered, giving him a little cheeky smile.

The corner of Watson's mouth twitched upward. "That's certainly understandable, my dear. No one likes to be snacked on."

"So true," she laughed, ushering him and John towards the kitchen. "I thought we would dine out on the patio. The weather's perfect this evening."

"Ah, the cook must be relieved to be serving outdoors this warm evening," James said, taking in the cottage as he walked through towards the patio door. It seemed to be a very nice, cozy little place. He did a good job locating this home he patted himself on the back.

"She's the cook," John delighted in informing Watson. He got the reaction he was looking for when James halted on the patio threshold and his face fell briefly before he was able to plaster back on a fake happy face.

"Oh, how… nice," James mustered, hoping he looked appropriately pleased despite feeling like he should run for the nearest exit. Damn, if he had known she was going to do the cooking he would have found some excuse to turn down her dinner invitation.

"I will have you know, James Watson, that I am a very good cook," she firmly enlightened him, knowing exactly what he was thinking. She turned to wag a finger at the taller man chuckling behind him. "And you can stop egging him on, Montague John Druitt. You know perfectly well I can cook."

John folded his hands primly before him and gave a fake, serious face. "Of course you can. I never said otherwise. After all, you took lessons from Julia Child," he poked. The warning flash of her dark blue eyes warmed him to the core. The only thing better than baiting James was baiting Helen John thought happily to himself.

"Who's Julia Child?" Watson asked as he tried to push away his concern about possible impending food poisoning. He clearly recalled the first time Helen had cooked a full meal for their merry little group. He hadn't been able to so much as look at bread pudding, let alone eat it, for months afterwards.

"Only one of the most famous chefs in the twentieth century," Helen answered, adding, "but, of course, you're not supposed to know that. So forget we said anything."

"Duly noted," James smirked. So, she had received cooking lessons from a noted chef. Perhaps he'd survive the night without food poisoning after all. Please, God, he prayed. No bread pudding!

The two men walked out onto the patio while Helen went to place the bouquet into a vase of water. James inhaled the sweet aroma of the roses covering the pergola above the patio and gave himself another pat on the back. He did really good finding this place.

"Wine?" John asked, working off the cork on the dark bottle.

"Please," James answered as he looked around. It was early evening and there was plenty of natural light still available to observe his surroundings. He noted that the gardens around the patio and kitchen were well tended and thriving. The table was set with several plates of food that he was not acquainted with, which intrigued him. If he was going to be poisoned he would prefer it to be by exotic foods he had not yet savored.

Helen rejoined them and placed the bouquet to one side of the table. "Shall we?" she said, pointing to the meal spread out on the table as she seated herself. Both men automatically reached for her chair, causing her to laugh lightly. James, who had been quicker, pushed her chair in, ignoring the annoyed look Druitt aimed his way, before seating himself.

"And what have we here?" he asked as he placed his napkin across his lap. "It doesn't look or smell like common, old English fare." He took a deep whiff and smiled. "In fact, it smells quite delicious."

"Its Italian cuisine," Helen explained, smiling at his obvious interest. Italian food was in fact James Watson's favorite food, though he did not yet know it. In the original timeline he wouldn't have gotten a real good taste of it until the 1920s. She had deliberately made dishes that she knew he would love. After all, the old saying was the way to a man's heart was through his stomach.

She waved her hand at the first dish. "For starters we have bruschetta with fresh baked bread." She motioned to the second platter, "followed by artichoke hearts with olive oil and spices," and then indicated the last platter, "and for the main course, chicken fettuccine with spinach."

Watson's mouth watered from the divine odors wafting up from the plates of attractively arranged food. "It all smells wonderful."

"I agree," John inserted. "Let's eat."

Helen bit down on the inside of her bottom lip to keep herself from laughing aloud as James murmured in delight with each dish he tried. "I think I have died and gone to heaven," he moaned, spooning more of the tomato concoction onto a small slice of bread and popping it into his mouth.

"It certainly makes English food seem bland in comparison," John said, laughing at his friend's sudden love with Italian food.

The rest of the meal passed amiably. James regaled them with tales of his latest cases and fielded Helen's few questions about work at the Sanctuary. Helen amused them with her recount of finding and chasing a squirrel about the house the day before. It had tried to create a nest in one of her bonnets in the corner of the bedroom and was quite dismayed to have its new home taken away. "The cheeky little thing gave me a through castigation after I ushered it out of the house," she exclaimed, grinning at her laughing companions.

"If I was a squirrel looking to make a nest in your clothing I wouldn't have chosen a bonnet," John impudently offered, garnering him a light kick under the table.

"I shall refrain from adding to that impertinent comment about a certain lady's undergarment," James teased, giving Helen a little smirk.

"I should hope so, you cheeky devil," she replied back, giving him a light kick under the table.

"Well, you would be qualified to speak of women's clothing," John smirked, referring to Watson's occasional dressing up in women's clothing to go undercover.

Helen giggled aloud, flashing her deep dimple as she regarded the blush that blossomed on Watson's ears, which was his personal indication of embarrassment. She was well aware of his dress in drag habits. It was rare that anyone could induce that kind of reaction from the likes of James Watson, but then again, Helen and John were not just anyone.

Embarrassed, James loudly cleared his throat. "So, is there any dessert?"

"You're still hungry?" John asked incredulously, laughing at his friend's transparent attempt to ignore Druitt's jab at Watson's cross dressing.

Taking pity on her friend, Helen stood up and said, "I have made a dessert." She went back into the kitchen and soon returned with a pair of plates which she placed before the two men. "Bread pudding," she announced with a flourish, bursting into laughter as James choked on his wine.

"Bread Pudding? Dear Lord," he gasped between coughs, "You are trying to kill me after all."

Laughing, John pounded him on the back. "Take heart, old boy. She's finally learned to make decent pudding. You don't have to worry about being poisoned _again_."

"That's right, James," she giggled as she headed back to the kitchen for her own plate. "If I ever poison you again I promise it will be with something different!"

John barked a laugh and pounded his companion cordially on the back again. "There you go, Snoopy Pants. She promised not to kill you with pudding!" He laughed harder as James shot him a dirty look for using the detested nickname.

Watson had to admit that the pudding was good though he was only able to finish half of it. He was stuffed to the gills. An affable silence had descended over the trio as they ate their dessert. Abandoning his unfinished desert, James reached into the pocket of his coat, which was draped over the back of the empty fourth chair, to retrieve his pipe and quietly went through the motions of lighting it up. Helen was entertaining herself with watching a large night moth fluttering around the nearby candles while John was slouched back sleepily in his chair.

Darkness surrounded them, as did the fragrance of the overhead roses. It had been the most perfect of evenings. Pity it would have to end.

"So," James drawled out in his silky British tone, "Are you going to tell me why I'm really here or are we going to spend the rest of the night just visiting about nothing of real importance?"

Startled, Helen returned her gaze to find James staring at her with keen, sharp eyes. John had shifted forward in his seat, also caught off guard by Watson's comment and had thrown a quick look in Helen's direction before facing their companion.

"Why James, what makes you think I have any ulterior motivate for inviting you to dinner other than to enjoy your most excellent company?" she flirted as she quickly recovered from being caught off guard.

Watson smirked, his pipe clenched in the corner of his mouth. He waited a long minute before removing it to speak. "While I have no doubt that you do enjoy my most_ excellent_ company," he began, "I know you, Helen Magnus," he said as he pointed his pipe at her. "We have been partners in crime for far too many years for you to try and fool me." He raised his eyebrow as if to emphasize that fact.

They stared at one another before Helen caved. He did know her well, even if he didn't realize how well he truly knew her. "Partners in crime. What an apropos turn of phrase when it comes to us." She leveled a shrewd look back at him, the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile as she reflected on some of their adventures over the years. The Watson seated before her had no clue the many ways in which the word "partners" had applied to them over a century. John certainly suspected, for his mouth had turned down at her rely to Watson's question.

The left corner of James's mouth unconsciously turned up into a dimple as he regarded her intently. She was trouble with a capital T and he was about to walk right into her latest scheme whether he liked it or not. Helen, with John's help, had gone through a lot of trouble to get him here and happily fattened up on exotic food that she had known he would love. Whatever she was about to spring on him must be big… and either messy or dangerous… or both.

Helen bit her lip to keep her smile from widening. She could see the wheels in Watson's mind whirling and knew he was wondering what little scheme she was about to spring on him. And, judging from the little twinkle in his eyes on his otherwise poker face, he was intrigued by the idea.

"Are you going to tell him of your proposition or are you just going to play stare out with him all night," John grumpily asked her, not at all liking the way the two ex-lovers were staring admiring at one another.

She resisted rolling her eyes at the jealous tone of John's voice, keeping her dark sapphire eyes focused on the man before her whom she hoped would help her do what seemed an insurmountable task. "I have been trying to figure out how I can accomplish all my Herculean goals and have come to the conclusion that I need a special kind of help. I have racked my brain trying to solve a very complicated problem and only a specific kind of genius will be able to help me mastermind the miracle of a lifetime. Only one person can fill the enormous role of partner that I require," she coyly disclosed in the seductive tone she employed when trying to coax a man into doing her bidding.

"Really?" James responded, his green eyes reciprocating her intense, intuitive stare. "And whom might that be?"

Helen tilted her head down to give him a feline little smirk. "I am in need of the services of one Sherlock Holmes."


	35. The Proposition

Author's Note: James is aware that the character of Sherlock Holmes is patterned after himself, as Helen appraises Will of in the tv episode Revelations Part 1. The first Holmes novel came out twelve years before the scene below. There's also a lot of strong language in this chapter as everyone's tempers on flaring.

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 35: The Proposition

Helen tilted her head down to give him a feline little smirk. "I am in need of the services of one Sherlock Holmes."

James gave a short harrumph, secretly pleased that Helen openly admitted that she was in need of his help and only his help in front of Druitt. "And what type of services are you in need of, dear Helen?" Placing his pipe back in his mouth, he quietly observed as Helen and John looked at one another as if trying to decide how to proceed before both turned their attention back to him. Druitt's body was tensed though he kept his face blank while Helen's eyes, though she tried to hide it, betrayed a worry that alarmed Watson.

Helen gave him a small smile as she tried to make up her mind which way she was going to approach this. She had a whole speech planned out beforehand but now, as she stared back at the keen green eyes that seemed to see everything, she realized that perhaps the best approach would be an honest one. James enjoyed a game of cat and mouse more than most men and if the situation were not so dire she might present him a rousing game today. However, she frankly did not feel up to playing the game with him tonight.

"There are a few services, actually," she honestly answered, "most of which revolve around your ability for astute logical reasoning."

"And there is no one else who can help you?" Watson asked with a raised eyebrow.

Helen reached for the small glass pitcher and poured herself another round of water. "Well, Nikola would be an option if he weren't currently so young and enthusiastic about returning the vampire race back to power. His mature counterpart would be far more dependable… for some of the tasks that are required. He, like John," she stated, giving Druitt an apologetic look, "does not necessarily excel in seeing the overall picture surrounding a problem and thus cannot take into account all the variables that are in play."

"You, on the other hand," John spoke up, "revel in dissecting a problem to death and moving about the puzzle pieces in your mind until you are satisfied with the conclusion. You are ideal for helping us solve the issues before us."

"Fascinating," James answered, tilting his head to the side with a little smirk on his mouth. "Well, you know I will help you if I can. Tell me what it is you need," he said, twirling his pipe at them amiably. "A rare ingredient… an illegal one? An unusual abnormal? Just name it."

"Um," Helen answered, "I'm afraid it is a lot more complicated than that. We cannot really tell you what all is involved until you agree to help us."

James sighed, lowering his pipe down to knock some of the tobacco overflow onto the floor where he ground the embers out with his booted foot. "What exactly are you asking of me, Helen? I suppose we could play this game of vague hints and innuendos all night but I suspect it will get old for all of us fast." Particularly Druitt, who looked as if he wanted to be more forthcoming. Of the three, John had the least amount of patience.

"We have three problems before us… each one leading to the next larger problem," she began to explain and then stopped. This was harder than she expected.

"You're being vague again," James accused, leaning back in his chair and pitching his hands into the steeple pose as he regarded her with a frown.

John leaned forward and poured himself another glass of wine. "Oh, just tell him already. If he says no we will just keep him here until he says yes," John said with a smirk aimed at his best friend.

"Well, that will certainly induce my cooperation," James replied dryly as he held up his empty glass for a refill. At the rate this evening was preceding he was going to have to get the two smashed before they finally spit out what they wanted.

"It's so unfair that you two get to drink yourselves silly while I have to do this whole thing sober," Helen pouted as she took another sip of water. She knew how important it was as an expectant mother to guzzle the dull stuff but oh what she wouldn't do for some good liquor right now.

"So I am going to need to be intoxicated for your news, am I?" James sarcastically asked as he watched John fill their glasses. "My enthusiasm is waning by the minute, my dear. Perhaps it would be best if you just come out and speak your requests now? You know I can put away quite a bit of alcohol when necessary."

Helen blew a huff of air through her teeth. "I know that. I am just trying to frame the request in the best possible way."

Taking the glass back from John, Watson lightly swirled the wine and stared down into the clear liquid. "You are both expecting me to say no to your request," he surmised, flicking his gaze back up at them. "So why ask it of me?"

"You are going to say no… initially, that is," John replied as he copied Watson's movement with his own wine glass, "because you can be a stubborn, pedantic git with an overdeveloped sense of conscience."

"Such complimentary words from a reformed lunatic," James tossed back with a grimace.

"John!" Helen frowned. This was turning into a verbal match between the two stubborn males, which would not bode well for any of them. "We are trying to acquire his help, not annoy him."

"Too late for that," Watson growled, popping him pipe back into his mouth and glaring at them like a grumpy, bearded leprechaun.

John rolled his eyes at them. "If I may finish." He stared back unblinkingly at his best friend. "You are going to eventually say yes because of two very important reasons."

"Which are?" James drawled snidely as he puffed on his pipe.

"One, it will be in your best interest over time. And two, it's an adventure… and we all know how much you enjoy that," Druitt retorted back as he threw back Watson's favorite excuse for inducing Druitt's help in his face. "Anything you will do in the next several decades will pale in comparison to what you will achieve with us."

John's rational caught Watson's attention. "And what are we to achieve if I agree to help?"

"We are going to change the future," Helen replied, "… and save many lives doing it. That's what I need your help with. I can do some of that on my own but not to the degree that I could with your help."

Chewing on this pipe stem, James stared her down hard. "Change the future, huh? Isn't that what you tried to stop Adam from doing? Changing history?"

"Adam wanted to change over a century's worth of history for his sole gain. He also wanted to murder you and me because we failed to cure Imogene of a disease that could not be cured during the Victorian era. His vision for changing the future was to destroy large portions of history for financial gain. That is not what I am asking you to do."

"Then I put it to you once more. What exactly are you asking of me, Helen?" James repeated tightly. "And please do try to be more specific in your answer. I am not a mind reader."

"Well, that's disappointing to learn," John said dryly, letting out a loud yelp as he received a sharp kick under the table by his annoyed partner. They exchanged glares as Watson rolled his eyes at their antics.

"The first is that I cannot have the child here, during this time period," she said.

Frowning, James laid his pipe on his plate and shook his head in confusion. "Okay, let's back up a second here, shall we? Why can you not have the child here? Women give birth every day. And you two have already disrupted the timeline by conceiving the child to begin with."

"As you know, my mother died during childbirth," she reminded him solemnly. "I too had difficulties in childbirth with my daughter… the medical technology of the time saved us," Helen reluctantly admitted, a soft blush coming to her cheeks. It was a little difficult to admit, as a woman, that she had problems being able to give birth when it was considered a normal activity that women in general were expected to be able to do, especially here in the Victorian era where that was pretty much the bulk of a woman's duty.

"You and the child almost died?" Watson asked, taken aback as Helen lowered her eyes and nodded. "Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath.

"Ditto," John added glumly and swatted at a night moth buzzing near his head.

Looking back up, Helen continued softly. "I cannot have the child here, James. I am predispositioned to have a difficult childbirth."

"So you wish to postpone the birth until acceptable medical advances are available, is that it?" he asked, looking over at John as he recalled being with Helen as her father helped her postpone the birth of her first child.

"No," Helen shook her head. "I wish to return to a time closer to where John and I had arrived from in order to safely deliver my child."

Watson's brow furled. "How would that even be possible?"

Leaning forward in his seat, John replied, "The same way we were able to come back here."

James sat up straighter in his chair. "Future Adam? He's dead. I saw him die with my own eyes."

"He is dead," John agreed. "But his device is still intact."

Glaring, James heatedly charged, "You took the equipment from his flat, didn't you?"

"Guilty as charged," Druitt shrugged. He knew Watson would be incensed to learn that he had taken Adam's belongings and hidden them from him.

"I didn't know about it until recently," Helen quickly offered as Watson turned an angry glare upon her. "And I could not bring myself to destroy it because it is the solution to my problem of time displacement," she confessed. "I need to go back to the future to have my child, James. I cannot stay here."

He sighed and waved his hand in resignation as he stuck his pipe back in his mouth and puffed hard. "Fine. Return to the future. What are you waiting for?"

"We are waiting for your help," John answered. "We cannot read all of Worth's notes because he has written them in his own personal code. We require your help in deciphering his code in order to build the support structure for the device."

James scrunched up his mouth. "And if I refuse to help?"

"Then Helen and our child will die… and I will be a very, very angry man," Druitt growled and glowered at him.

"Please, James, help me," Helen pleaded. "I don't want to die in childbirth," she sniffed as tears gathered in her eyes.

"Oh, damn it," Watson growled, throwing his head back to stare upward. He did not want to help them leave this time because, loathed that he was to admit it, he had grown accustomed to their presence and enjoyed his time with them. They were different from the Helen and John of his time period. They were more worldly, more witty, and frankly more far interesting. On the other hand, he certainly couldn't just stand by and let her or her innocent child die if he could prevent it in any way. "You are both royal pains in my backside," he ground out roughly as he knocked the spent tobacco out of his pipe onto the ground and placed the pipe back down onto the table.

"So you will help us," John concluded, garnering him a dirty look from the other man.

"Don't push me," James threatened. Silence descended over the trio for a few minutes before he nodded at them. "Give me the notes."

Relieved, Helen stood up. "I have a copy of them here. The originals are hidden elsewhere to prevent theft."

"Who would steal them?" James asked with a snort. "If you can't read them then I doubt anyone else could."

"Two would be thieves have already tried to ransack her home once. We weren't going to take any more chances," John explained as Helen bustled back into the house for her notes. He cut James off in anticipation of his next question. "They did not harm her. It was more like the other way around," John said, the note of pride in his voice unmistakable.

James merely sighed. The idea of this Helen giving two would be thieves a thorough beating did not seem farfetched at all and yet it was rather odd to reconcile with the well mannered, sweet golden haired beauty he knew of as his Helen.

The swishing of a full skirt alerted the men to her return. Helen rejoined them with a hand full of papers in one hand and a fan flapping back and forth in the other. Her top three buttons where undone as well and her hair had been pinned up in a loose bun. "Forgive my appearance," she breathlessly apologized as she handed him the notes. "I am rather warm." She began to fan herself boisterously and was grateful that her summer dress had short sleeves at least.

"It is no wonder given all the layers women must wear," James sympathized, having had to endure the warmth of women's garments on a few occasions when he went undercover. Women's fashions, he had long ago concluded, were ridiculous and overdone. Why they needed that many layers to fit some idealized notion of beauty was beyond him. Women were far more attractive in a less state of dress as far as he was concerned. Not that he would verbalize such a thing to her.

"I have tried to convince her to stay at my home by the sea," John divulged. "It is far cooler than this inlet countryside."

"This is my home… for now," Helen insisted, giving him a stern frown for trying to get James to gang up with him to convince her to move.

"It is a home without air condition, natural or manmade," John retorted. "It may be fashionable for women to faint now and then to get attention but you are not that fainting type, my dear. When you faint it is because your body is in distress! Which means the child is in distress!"

"You've been fainting?" Watson questioned, his mouth turning into a flat line of dismay. He had never witnessed her fainting, not even when she learned of Druitt's nocturnal activities in White Chapel all those years ago. As John had rightly remarked, she was not the fainting type.

"I am warm at times," she replied slowly. "It is summer after all." She sat back down and took another sip from her glass. "My notes are the ones in Latin."

"I recognized your handwriting," James reminded her as he perused the pages. Only the sounds of Helen's fan, James shuffling through the papers and the occasional chirping of crickets echoed through the night. John had leaned back in his chair, placing his arms behind his head and closed his eyes as he waited for Watson to finish his review. Finally, James placed the pages down and looked over at them. "I can see the start of a pattern in Adam's notes but I am in need of more light and time to work it out."

"Of course," Helen said. "I've made a copy of the notes in your hand and will continue to work on them as well."

James steepled his fingers together. "So, deciphering the notes in a timely manner in order for you to return is the first problem," he summarized.

"Yes," she agreed. "If possible, we need to crack the code, build the device and move through the time portal within the next three months. Two preferably."

"You said there were three problems, each leading to the next larger one," he reminded them. "What is the second problem requiring my help?"

John opened his eyes and sat up in his chair as he exchanged glances with Helen. "The second task is more difficult. Helen and I can accomplish most of it but one part in particular requires your participation."

"What do I need to do?" he asked, steeling himself for the next Herculean task.

Helen sighed. "In order to explain the second task we are going to have to give you a brief summary of the problem. These are things you should not know about but I see no other way to explain the problem to you without giving you a few details. You would hardly agree to the task without some explanation," she said, acknowledging James' stubborn insistence on knowing all the details of a case. "And you will need to be willing to participate fully for the plan to work."

Titling his head to the side, James raised an eyebrow. "Seems reasonable. Proceed."

Taking a deep breath, she charged on. "In the four years before our arrival here there are two wars… of sorts… between those who seek to protect abnormals and those who wish to destroy or control them for their own use. In the first war, hundreds will die before we are able to stop it." She paused for effect. "In the second war… the one that Adam began… thousands have died. We don't know the end result of the war, or even if there is one, because it was just beginning before we arrived back here."

Watson's mouth dropped open in shock and he turned to look at John for confirmation. John nodded solemnly. "They were very difficult years. Such unnecessary bloodshed all in the desire for control over abnormals."

"The second problem is to save three lives during the second war," Helen announced, not at all surprised by the narrowing of James' eyes.

"Why only three?" he asked in confusion. "Surely you would want to save the rest of them?"

John blew out a deep breath. "The difficulty with this situation is that if we prevent all the other deaths then the battle will continue on and perhaps even more die before it is truly over. Those that perpetrated the war cannot be allowed to live beyond their time. We could eliminate the ones we know of before the battle begins but then others will emerge from the shadows to take their place and that could be worse in the end. The devil one knows is better than the one that is unknown."

"Then why save the three?" James asked in agitation as he stood up and paced behind his chair. "Why not just let them die too."

"Because they can help us in saving thousands of lives in the second war," Helen answered as she unconsciously clenched her hand around the fan so hard her knuckles turned white.

Not missing her reaction, James glared at her. "There's more."

"They are all dear to me, in one way or another," Helen replied softly as she lowered her eyes from his piercing gaze.

James exhaled a deep breath as the realization struck him. "Your daughter."

"Yes," Helen admitted as she felt the tears start to gather in her eyes again. Damn baby hormones. Her ability to hide her feelings was so much harder during the pregnancy than normal for her.

"And why is the life of your child so much more important than the others?" Watson argued. "Why is she worth the hundreds?"

John stood up so suddenly his chair went crashing down behind him. "Because she is ours, that is why! What was done to our child was barbaric and monstrous! I will not allow it to happen again!" he bellowed as his face contorted in rage.

The two men glared at one another. "Tell me why I should help you save only three," James angrily asked Helen.

"Because you promised me," the tearful redhead answered.

Shaking his head, James retorted, "Your pregnancy must be playing tricks on your mind, dear Helen. I most certainly did not promise any such thing."

Helen stood up as her temper flared to the surface. "You most certainly did, James Watson! You swore upon her birth that you would do everything in your power to protect her and keep her safe. You are her godfather! And I expect you to keep your promise!"

Throwing out his arms in frustration, he roared, "And how am I supposed to know that? She has not yet been born!"

"Well now you do," John roared back at him. "So suck it up and fulfill your promise."

"And where the hell were you when all this was going on?" Watson demanded. "Why didn't you protect her?"

"I tried!" John barked. "I couldn't stop it. Tesla couldn't stop it. The best we could do was to try to keep Helen from being murdered along with Ashley!"

Both men stopped their argument when they heard Helen give a loud sob and turn to rush back into the house.

"Way to go, jackass," John grumbled and stalked off after her, leaving James alone on the patio. Growling, James gripped the back of his chair and kicked the leg in frustration. He then took a series of deep breaths as he got his temper under control and reflected upon all that he had just learned. His goddaughter, Ashley, had died a terrible death, one that still haunted her parents. And none of them had been able to prevent it. While he could understand them wanting to save the girl he still had a hard time accepting why they would allow the other deaths to occur.

By the time they returned fifteen minutes later, Watson had replayed the whole of tonight's conversations and had compartmentalized the important details within his mind.

"Sorry," Helen apologized as she approached the table. "I should not have yelled at you for things you had no way of knowing about."

John came to a halt beside her. "I should not have lost my temper either," he grumbled in way of an apology. "The subject matter is a delicate one for us."

James nodded as he took in Helen's distressed appearance. Her face was flushed deeper red and her eyes swollen from crying. "Who are the other two you want to save?"

Helen gave him a small smile as she sat down, grateful that he seemed willing to move beyond his outrage to continue the discussion. "The second is Clara Griffin."

"Griffin?" James repeated, his head whipping up in surprise. "As in Nigel Griffin?"

"She is his granddaughter," John answered as he returned his chair to its upright position and sat down. "The girl took his place when he could not and died as a consequence of insisting on staying to help fight. I think that Nigel would have been proud to know how courageous Clara was."

"She had his gift then?" the sleuth guessed as he tried to come to grips with the knowledge that two young heirs from members of The Five died in the same battle.

"Yes," Helen nodded. "She was a sweet girl and should not have been there when the fighting began. I ordered her to leave but she wanted to help us." She sighed as she mentally warned herself not to start crying again. "I would like to think that if Nigel were in my place now that he would try to save my child as well."

Holding his glass up towards John to indicate he wanted more wine, Watson asked, "And who is the third person?" He was surprised when Druitt instead pushed the bottle in front of him. "You might want the bottle instead," John said with a raised eyebrow.

"Why?" James asked and then stopped as he realized they were both staring at him. "Oh," he muttered as he realized he was the third person.

"Now you understand why I said you would need to be willing to participate fully for the plan to work. The skills of all of The Five will be needed in the second war. That is the one in which we can save the most lives. Your strength in strategic planning will come in very handy."

She and John laughed softly as their overwhelmed friend picked up the bottle and took a swig. "Bloody hell," James groaned and swallowed hard.

"Ditto," John agreed again.

"Anything else you want to share," Watson asked as he took another swig. He was definitely going to get smashed tonight. If this bottle didn't do the trick he had a whole whiskey bar at home.

Giving him a sympathetic look, Helen added, "The legacy of our life's work is also at stake. The Sanctuary Network is on a collision course with world powers due to the chain of events that Adam, and to an extent you and I, have set in motion. That course needs to be altered to a degree if our work is to continue without government sanctions and interference."

"So all in all just another walk in the park, hmm? No big deal, right?" James sarcastically replied.

John smirked. "Think of it as another great adventure. One that your life depends upon… quite literally."

"Oh, shut up!" James groaned, "And fetch me another bottle of wine. I'm going to need it to deal with all of this!"

Helen motioned for John to fetch the bottle then turned back to their pale faced companion. "So, shall we begin?" she inquired. "We have a lot of planning to do and time is of the essence."

"Isn't it always?" Watson muttered unhappily. He knew when John had extended the invitation that something of importance was going to occur tonight but never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined this.


	36. Moving Day

Author's Note: Sorry it's been so long since the last update. Life gets in the way and truthfully I am just a very slow writer.

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 36: Moving Day

Eyes closed, she felt slightly dizzy as she inhaled the salty, cool air and listened to the sounds of the waves crashing below. Mingled in were the competing cries of the seagulls that weaved in and out of the sky, diving down here and there in search of their next meal or to return to one of the multitude of nests they had built into the side of the cliff walls. Leaning against the frame of the window, she took another deep breath and reminded herself that she had done what was necessary. No point in crying over split milk… she had already done enough crying for a month in the past few days. And now she was going to have to deal with the consequences.

Three days ago, John had arrived to find her crumpled on the floor of her kitchen. She awoke to find her ashen faced, terrified lover loudly bellowing her name as he shook her body trying to revive her. It was mid-June and her little countryside cottage was proving to be far too warm for her expectant state. Helen was entering her fourth month of pregnancy and overheating would only become even more of an issue as she moved further along. It had taken her a few minutes to reorient herself to recall that she had fainted due to the heat and she had made the fatal error of admitting what had happened to John. The next thing she knew he had teleported them to his cottage, after which he had adamantly refused to take her back to her home.

Helen had tried to reason with him, promising that she would take better care in keeping her body temperature cooler and drinking more water. That failing, she had tried to appeal to his affections for her by pointing out that she, as an expectant mother, needed to be in a familiar and comforting environment. She loved her cottage and only felt at home there. She was "nesting" as all pregnant women tended to do she explained as sweetly as she possibly could while reminding herself that he was only acting this way because he was concerned about her and the baby's health.

When John refused to budge, her temper surfaced and she gave up all pretense of handling him with kid gloves. "I demand you take me home right now!" she insisted as she stomped her foot on the ground and glowered at him. "I do not appreciate being kidnapped and held against my will, Montague John Druitt! You are to take me home this instant!" His response of asking her what she would like for dinner as he strolled away resulted in her hurling a book at the back his head.

"Temper, temper," he groused back at her with a frown as he rubbed the back of his head. "You're going to upset the baby."

"Her jackass of a father has already done that," she quickly retorted back as she crossed her arms in growing anger.

"Then her sour puss of a mother should just calm down and relax," he shot back. "Take a deep breath of the fresh sea air and enjoy the scenic view." He then quickly had to dodge another book hurled his way. And another… and another as Helen let out her full rage by pelting him with as many nearby books as she could find. The very nerve of this obnoxious man she roared to herself.

When she had run out of books to throw, Helen spent the rest of the day giving him the cold shoulder, which wasn't easy to do given the fact that she couldn't get away from him. After having run through every scenario for plotting his death in her head, Helen decided to do something more productive and turned her focus back to Adam's notebook. Aside from trying to get her to eat something, which she refused by giving him an angry glare before plunging back into her notes, John was wise enough to not bother her further. She was predispositioned to having difficult pregnancies and the last thing he wanted to do was raise her blood pressure enough to cause her to collapse again.

When next Helen looked up, night was descending outside and panic struck her. "You need to take me home now. Ollie needs his dinner," she exclaimed as she quickly stood up, then immediate grabbed onto the sofa arm to prevent herself from falling. The room was spinning slightly due to her quick movement. She pushed John's hands away as he rushed over to help her. "If you cause my horse to starve to death and die I will never forgive you," she promised with a scowl marring her lovely face.

Dropping his head with a sigh, John finally relented. He knew his approach was the wrong way to accomplish his goal and he knew her well enough to know she would carry out her grudge against him should any harm come to the horse. "I have no desire to harm Ollie," he assured her. "I will take you back but something has to be done about the horse and your temporary home."

When she gave him a defiant glare, he charged on with his reasoning. "We will be leaving soon… to return back to our time. We will need to find a proper home for Ollie that meets your approval. I cannot see us taking him with us through the time portal, do you?"

The deep frown line on Helen's forehead lessened. "Soon? Has James said something to you about solving Worth's code?" she asked hopefully. She desperately wanted to be back in modern times before she entered her final trimester of pregnancy.

"No," John admitted, "but I know him well enough to know that he's close. Yesterday he had that little twinkle in his eye that he gets when he's solved or close to solving a mystery."

"It could just be due to a case he is working on," she argued as her face fell from disappointment.

Shaking his head, John countered, "He is working on a complicated case for Lestrade but that's just a distraction for him. Our conversation three weeks ago really shook him to his core. The knowledge that he dies while you, I and Tesla carry on was hard for him. Knowing that he is able to prevent his future death by solving the Worth's puzzle is pushing him past his fear. I am sure that he is close to breaking the code," John said confidently. "We need to be ready to move forward with our plan as soon as he accomplishes his part."

Helen slowly held her hand out to him. "Take me home, John. I need to take care of Ollie." He nodded and grasped her hand before teleporting them back into her living room. While she headed to the barn to see to her horse, John went into the kitchen and heated up a kettle of water. He had tea and biscuits ready for them on the patio by the time she returned.

Sinking into the chair, she gave him a small, sad smile and, ignoring the repast, silently took in the sight of her home and surrounding land. John quietly sipped his tea and allowed her the time to mourn the upcoming loss of her home and beloved horse. Helen was normally a very stoic woman who could take the punches and keep on going, but in her pregnant state her emotions were all over the place and she was less able to have her mind rule over her heart. And right now her heart lie with this home and her amiable gray, spotted horse, both of which were solid, physical refuges to which she had clung to ground herself while she struggled to meld into the past. It had been very difficult for her, as a modern woman, to be transplanted back into a time where women had little equal rights as that of a man. Druitt could come and go as he pleased but her actions were always observed and speculated about by others because she was a woman.

After a while, she looked at him and softly admitted, "I am reluctant to let this all go. I want to go home… but I want to take all of this with us." A large tear slowly fell down cheek and she gave a loud sniff as she swiped it away with the palm of her right hand.

Reaching out to take her left hand in his large one, he gave it a squeeze and nodded. "I know. I wish we could take it all with us, including James, but that's just not possible. The best we can do is to make sure that they are all provided for before our departure."

Squeezing his hand back, Helen sniffed again as another tear fell. "The baker's daughter, Yvette, wishes to marry her father's apprentice but is unable to because the boy cannot suitably provide for her according to her parents. I overheard her crying about it the last time I was in the shop. I think the boy will jump at the chance to be caretaker of this place. He will then be able to provide for Yvette and I believe the young couple will take good care of Ollie together. The land will remain in my name and James can oversee the property as my executor."

As always, Helen was trying to take care of someone less fortunate than herself. John lifted their joined hands to his lips to kiss her hand. "That sounds like a most excellent solution. Perhaps we can come back here for a family vacation later after we are settled back in the future and the child has been born?" he proposed and was rewarded with the first genuine, sweet smile from her all day.

"I would love that," she answered as her eyes misted up again. She gave his hand another affectionate squeeze before pulling it away to begin having her tea. "We can go into town tomorrow and talk to Yvette and her suitor."

"I apologize for how badly I behaved earlier today," he offered up sincerely as he dunked his biscuit into his tea. "I panicked and should not have dragged you away against your will. I will behave myself now."

"Sure you will," she retorted as she took a sip of her tea. "I would apologize for throwing the books at you earlier but we both know I'm not sorry about that." They both laughed as the tension that existed between them melted away. They both agreed to spend the night at her cottage and the next day they went into town to make the arrangements with the new caretakers. The delight of the grateful young couple helped to relieve some of the pain Helen felt in letting go of her home.

For the next two days, John popped back and forth between his home and Helen's as he moved the belongings she had chosen to take with her. Her clothing mostly fit inside her one travel bag with the rest shoved inside a canvas sack. He had been the one to insist that they take her paintings which he claimed would brighten up the seaside cottage. All except one. He left behind the barren wintery landscape that had evoked such feelings of isolation and loneliness. Montague John Druitt had already endured a century of those feelings and he wanted none of that near his child or its mother.

Helen's goodbyes with Ollie the horse were more difficult. When she flung her arms around the horse's neck and began crying, John inwardly sighed and he prayed that it would not come down to them having to drag along a horse back to the future with them. He certainly could not teleport anything as big as Ollie and there was no telling where they would end up once they crossed to the other side. Finally, she released Ollie's neck, gave one last soft stroke on his muzzle, and walked out of the barn with John trailing behind her. The newly engaged couple who would serve as caretakers of Ollie and the home were scheduled to arrive within the hour.

John found Helen waiting for him in her living room. "We'd better go," she commanded, "or else I'm liable to start crying again. Stupid baby harmones," she grumbled, causing him to laugh softly.

As he slipped his arm around her waist he looked down at the black carpet bag she clutched securely to stomach. "I don't suppose there would happen to be any Phoenix feathers in that bag," he keenly guessed. Helen shrugged and gave him a little smirk. Shaking his head, John leaned in to kiss the side of her temple before teleporting them back to the seaside cottage they would now occupy together.


	37. Preparations for the Future

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 37: Preparations for the Future

Helen was pulled out of her reflections on the events of the past three days when she heard the men's arrival behind her. She turned, still leaning against the window frame, to face them.

"I can honestly say that I still hate the feeling of teleporting," James complained as the pulling sensation ceased and he was able to regain his bearings again.

"You complain like a little old man," John chastised in good humor as he stepped away from his best friend and moved towards the long table where Helen had spread out all her notes.

"Little?" James groused back in equally good humor. "I am 6 feet tall and in my early forties. I am hardly a little old man."

"I'll give you the height part," the taller man replied, "but you were always 'older' than me personality wise."

"So what you are saying is that you have always been more 'immature' than I," Watson returned with a waggle of his eyebrows as he looked around at his new surroundings. "This is a nice cottage," he praised. "Very bright and airy."

"That is not what I said," John disagreed, "though I do agree about the cottage."

"Actually, it kind of is," Helen waded in and grinned as the father of her child shot her a mildly annoyed look while James winked at her.

Rolling his eyes, John complained, "You always take his side."

"That's because she knows I'm always right," James smirked as he came up to the table and looked down upon the items scattered on its surface. Helen hadn't gotten much further than the last time he had talked to her the sleuth gloated to himself. She may be the queen of the laboratory but he was still king of solving puzzles.

"I didn't say that," Helen corrected as she joined them.

"Oh, but it kind of is," James insisted as he cheekily raised an eyebrow at her.

"Is not," she shot back as she tried to give him a stern look.

"Is too," he teased back.

John rolled his eyes again. "I take back what I said about you being more mature. But I'm still taller than both of you." The trio then laughed at the silly turn their conversation had taken. They were about to have a serious planning discussion and the humor helped to lighten the mood.

"You have some news for us," Helen prompted.

James tilted his head in acknowledgement as he pulled out a pile of papers from his coat. "I have cracked Worth's code," he proclaimed proudly as he spread out his papers. "There were subtle changes between how he wrote certain letters throughout his notes. I would not have noticed the changes had I not been looking for some variation in Adam's writings." He tilted his head the other way as he turned the notes slowly 45 degree in a counterclockwise motion before righting them again. "Adam's handwriting is most intriguing. The pressure with which he writes sometimes is lighter and other times harsher… almost as if he's angry. There's also subtle slanting that correlates with those changes in pressure." He paused. "If I didn't know any better I would have thought that two different men wrote these notes."

John and Helen exchanged pointed glances which didn't go unnoticed by Watson. "What?" he prompted.

"Ever read the novel,_ The_ _Strange Case of Dr. __Jekyll __and __Mr. __Hyde_, by Robert Louis Stevenson?" John asked and received a warning glare from the mother of his child.

"That's hardly my type of reading," James snorted then stopped as he saw the look Helen had aimed at Druitt. "But I am willing to broaden my horizons and try something new."

Ignoring Helen, John encouraged James on. "I think you will find it to be a very stimulating character study."

"Duly noted," James answered as both he and Druitt nodded at another in defiance of their colleague.

Rolling her eyes at their male bonding, Helen poured herself a glass of water and took a seat at the table. "If you both are finished with your reading recommendations, perhaps we can move on." The two men seated themselves at the table and, for the next ten minutes, James walked them through Worth's notes and the trio used the information to fill in the details on building the support structure.

The continuum device and the other equipment bits Druitt had taken from Adam's flat were brought out for inspection by Watson, whose sideburns positively twitched with excitement at observing the advanced technology up close. Exhaling loudly, he flopped back in his chair and exclaimed in an awed tone, "To think… time travel is a true to honest possibility. That man… and woman… are able to walk from one point in time to another. Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating."

"It is possible… as our being here is proof," Helen confirmed with a smile. "And now that we have the information to complete the support for the device and how to wire it together we can move on to the next step."

"Which is assembling the device and powering it up to return back to your time," James replied. "How exactly are you going to power the device? Based on Adam's notes it will require an enormous amount. That can't be easy to produce."

"There is one source that can produce that much energy," Helen answered, unable to hide the small smile that graced her lips.

"Oh no," John groaned. "There has got to be another way."

"Can you think of one so readily available?" she returned with one raised eyebrow.

"What now?" James sighed. Honestly, these two could make a saint drink himself blind. And James Watson was no saint.

Instead of replying, John pointed to each one of them with his right hand while holding up three fingers on his other hand to indicate the three of them. When he held up a fourth finger, he turned two fingers on his right hand down and placed them in front of his mouth as he looked pointedly at Watson.

Recognizing the fang implications, James pulled a face. "Tesla? I thought you didn't want him involved because his younger counterpart was too inclined towards bringing the vampire race back to power."

"Oh, we aren't going to involve Nikola directly in this. We just need access to his Colorado Springs laboratory to generate enough power to activate the device and open the doorway, so to speak. A nice stormy night wouldn't hurt either," she mused. "The electric show would be a rather amazing way to depart."

John narrowed his eyes at her as he recognized the unsaid inference in her response. "You don't plan on telling Tesla about all of this, do you?"

Giving a nonchalant shrug, Helen demurely took another sip of water and batted her sapphire eyes at the pair.

"Why would you want to let Nikola in on the secret of the continuum device?" James queried with a furrowed brow. "He's a conceited little git."

"She has a soft spot for short, snarky and fanged," John explained as he continued to stare hard at her. "And why would you want to bring him into this?"

At James's look of surprise, Helen's dimple appeared as she said, "He's an acquired taste. He's really quite brilliant." When both men exchanged looks of disgust, she added, "As are you both. We are all brilliant and arrogant in our own way. That's part of the reason we all came together in the first place."

"And here I thought it was because of our desire to push the boundaries of science," James sarcastically quipped.

"That too," Helen said, amused by the pair's reactions to the mentions of their vampire counterpart.

"You still haven't answered my question," John demanded.

"I answered your question, in a roundabout way. Nikola's brilliant. We will need his help in dealing with the fallout from Adam's explosion. It will take all of the skills of The Five to prevent as many deaths as possible. When the time comes for him to join us then we will tell him the truth." Cutting John off before he could protest again, she continued, "He had the chance to take the device and do what he wanted with it, but he did not take it. Instead, he left it in my possession at my sanctuary. The mature version of Tesla can be trusted to join us in our task. He is one of us," she assured the two skeptical men.

Biting down on her bottom lip as the stubborn pair continued to sulk, Helen resisted the urge to roll her eyes at them and instead decided to bring the conversation back to a topic closer at hand. "We need to discuss the topic of a temporary home and James's death," she threw out suddenly, catching Watson off guard enough to cause him to sputter "My death?" and leap up out of his seat.

"I thought the plan was to prevent his death," John asked in confusion, to which James nodded his vigorous agreement.

"I never said we would _prevent_ James's death," Helen replied and held up her hand as both men protested at the same time. "James must die on schedule… we just need to make sure he lives beyond that point."

"So I am dead and alive at the same time?" Watson exclaimed in alarm as he began to pace back and forth. "That hardly sounds logical… or much fun." Stopping to point an accusatory finger at her, he said in a gravelly voice, "Our deal was that I help you crack Adam's code to return you back home in order to save your offspring and in turn you help me to live on to help with the second battle. I kept my end of the bargain. I expect you to keep yours."

"And we shall," she smiled back at his indignation. He was rather cute all puffed up in his alarmed state with his cheeks flushed pink. "Calm yourself, my dear friend. We have to keep up the appearance that you have expired so that the original timeline stays as intact as possible beyond the few changes needed. At least up until we all rejoin the original timeline and band back together. I've worked out a schedule for our plan."

"Of course you have," Watson grumbled as he reseated himself.

"What's the plan?" John asked, almost afraid of her response after her comments about James needing to be dead and alive at the same time.

"We should set the device to return us back to our time at the point of five years before James's death," she began, only to be interrupted by Watson's strained "And that would be when?" "You don't want to know the specific time of your death," Helen chastised gently. "It would only make you paranoid and twitchy as the time approaches."

"That's easy for you to say considering you know what all occurs and it is not your death we're discussing here," he gristled back in annoyance.

She continued on as if he had not interrupted. "John, we want to arrive at a point roughly five years before James's death. That will give me enough time to deliver our child and wean it before we delve back into the fray. Can you program the device to that time?"

John nodded, thinking that five years would also give them enough time to decide how to solve the problem of Ashley's abduction and death. It would also afford them a few peaceful years to raise their youngest child.

She looked back to Watson. "That will also give us five years to establish a home base for all of us, including you, to reside. To the rest of the world your death will take place as it had originally. You will fade into the woodwork alongside us. We can work out all the details for your disappearance when we met up on the other side of the time portal. You will need to secure the safe house for us and quietly shift some resources for our needs. I will be able to access some of the funds I've stashed away for emergencies without much risk of detection but initially you will need to bear the brunt of the financial set up."

"Alright," he replied. "Is there a particular place you had in mind for the flat?" he asked and was not at all surprised to find she had an answer. She instructed him to purchase the penthouse flat in an expensive apartment complex in a section of Edinburg, Scotland.

"Why Scotland?" John asked. "Is it because the London Sanctuary is hours away?

She nodded her head. "Precisely. It would be far away enough to give the appearance of a private retreat. Do you remember the three calderas on the holographic map? They may have been the largest, direct access points to Praxis but the map, upon later inspection by Nikola and myself, showed other smaller offshoot routes. There were indications that other cities existed along those routes. One small city was abandoned in the late-1800s near a route outside the Vancouver, Canada area. The amenities of that city and its dimensions would serve well as a new sanctuary location. It is tucked into the mountainside and if we are lucky the city is wired with the same technological advances as Praxis."

"Why do we need the flat if you want to set up camp in the abandoned city?" John questioned.

"Because for five years James will need to have a _vacation home_ to retreat to as he secretly meets with us while carrying on publically as Head of House of the London Sanctuary. It will raise suspicion if he often just disappears into the ether with no destination in mind. Plus, the flat can serve as an entry and exit point when we need to move about in public. You can teleport us back and forth between locations. It's safer than if any of us drive directly to the new sanctuary location. We can be tracked to the flat but not beyond that."

"That actually makes sense," James mused aloud, earning him a glare from Helen. "Well, you have to admit, some of this sounds ludicrous for my part. We are planning for my 'death' in a far distant time as well as establishing a new sanctuary base. All things that currently I am unable to fully grasp given my limited frame of reference."

"I know," she conceded, "but there's more. We will need some help in setting up the new location. Not a large staff, per se. I think one or two individuals at the most. One will need to be technologically savvy and the other handy enough to help us rebuild and secure the new facility. Keep that in mind as you meet others in the late twentieth century." As he crinkled up his brow in deep thought, she added, "But not the boy you will choose as your number one at the London Sanctuary. He will need to remain in that position to carry on the original timeline."

"And his name would be?" Watson prompted, and then groaned at her smug reply of "You'll know him when you make the decision to make him your second in command."

"Anything else, your majesty?" he asked sarcastically as he worked on mentally compartmentalizing all the details she was throwing his way. He could already feel a headache coming on from information overload.

"Yes, Dr. Watson," she replied. "There is the matter of sanctuary politics. I have always felt that if abnormals were able to be presented in a positive way to the public that they would come to accept and possibly embrace them. That governments would come to see abnormals as a minority class to be protected and allowed to flourish alongside normal humans." She paused and gave James a sad smile. "I was very naïve in my thinking. You, old friend, need to help me, in my other form, see the error of my thinking. Help to carefully steer me and the Sanctuary network away from deep government interference and financial dependence. This will be a rather tall order, I'm afraid. My younger counterpart will be stubborn on wanting to work within those parameters so you will need to put to use all your persuasive powers of influence over me."

"So you freely admit that you are stubborn and completely off base with your assumptions about abnormals and humans openly coexisting?" James summarized with a smirk. "There may be a god after all if you're willing to admit to such a huge deficiency in character."

"Ha ha," Helen snarked back as both men snickered. "I can admit that I am wrong… on those rare occasions that I am." She reached for her glass of water and held it up. "Meanwhile, I would like to propose a toast." Both men poured themselves a glass of water and mimicked her position. "To being reunited with dear friends, to saving our loved ones, and to changing the world into a better place."

"Here here," the two men cheered and clang glasses with her.

"This would have been better with a fine whiskey," James observed as he squinted in disdain at his drink. "Water is just so bland and common."

"Or a good ale," John agreed. "Why exactly are we toasting with water anyway?"

"Because I am pregnant and if I have to suffer than so do you," Helen retorted in good humor. They had finally found the solution to their problem and would soon be headed home. Home to advanced technology and Chinese takeout and shoe shopping galore. And more importantly… home to fulfill the promise that she had made to her six year old daughter Ashley that she would always come for her. All the tears she had shed in the past three days were worth the price to return home.


	38. The Mysterious Dr Magnus

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 38: The Mysterious Dr. Magnus

Rain dripped down from the heavens and another loud crackle of thunder rippled across the sky. Pulling the hood of his cloak as far down as possible over his face, he plodded forward along the narrow cobblestone street back towards his room and dodged the other covered figures that rushed past. The day had been quite a productive one and he had made an important contact regarding the ancient artifact that he sought. Onward he continued through the maze of centuries-old, narrow streets, turning left then right then back left again. His somewhat uneven footsteps drowned out by the steady beat of raindrops falling around him. He didn't begrudge the rain. It was a merciful break from the dry baking heat of the dessert. Even the few mangy dogs he passed seemed to appreciate the cooler temperature as they huddled in doorways and against nooks created by the overcrowded, mud-brick light-colored buildings. Their noses turned up and twitching as they took in the smells that the rain heightened.

Above, noises from the homes on the upper levels could be heard as families gathered together to share the news of their day and eat their evening meals. The strong smells of incense, spices and tobacco floated about in the muggy night air as he moved forward. The rising and falling songs of evening prayers had been broadcast for the day and now only the occasional baying of dogs punctuated the night through the falling rain.

As he approached the archway to the steps leading up into the hotel he paused and slowly turned his head to glance around. There was nothing there but a lone figure heading down the street away from him and yet the hairs on the back of his neck bristled once more in warning. Quickly, he hobbled up the steps and into the safety of the building's bright, colorfully faded interior. For two days now he had experienced moments where he felt as if he were being followed. It worried him. In his line of work it was better to remain unnoticed and to move among the shadows.

Inside the narrow lobby, he approached the small front desk to collect any mail and messages from the elderly desk clerk before hurrying on to make his way up the stairs to his room on the third floor. The hotel was very old and somewhat shabby but clean enough to pass basic western sensibility. He had stayed here in the past and felt it to be safe. Now, however, he wasn't so sure. Perhaps his repeated favoring of this hotel over the last fifty years had brought his presence to someone's unwanted attention.

Unlocking the door to his corner room, he quietly stepped inside, immediately closing and locking the door behind him. The curtains were pulled partially back from the two windows, giving him enough light to see as he took three steps to his left to turn on the oil lamp at his desk. As the light got stronger and caused shadows to dance around him, the hairs on the back of his neck bristled again. His pulse quickening, his left hand closed around a silver letter opener on his desk as he straightened and, with a speed that belied his age, he spun around to face the intruder.

The sight before him was such an unexpected one that the letter opener slipped from his hand to land with a soft thump onto the thin faded, patterned rug underneath his feet.

"Good evening, Dr. Magnus," the tall, thin man greeted as he stood and half bowed in respect to his elder. "Please forgive the intrusion but we thought it best that our meeting be in private. You are a difficult man to track down."

"James Watson!" the older man exclaimed as the palm of his hand spread out over the base of his throat in shock. "What in the world?" Then, as Watson's words sunk in, he repeated, "We?"

A taller figure emerged from the darkened corner to the Watson's right, causing Gregory to cry out in alarm and step back into the edge of his desk with a loud bump. "What are _you_ doing here?" the doctor hissed. "Stay back." He glanced down briefly to locate the sharp object he had lost and estimated that he would not be able to retrieve the weapon before his nemesis would be upon him.

Watson took a step forward, placing himself between the two men. "It is all right, Dr. Magnus. John means you no harm. We have only come here on Helen's behest. She has asked to see you."

Worried, the doctor gasped, "Helen? Is she alright?" Glaring at Druitt, he indignantly haphazard an accusation at the known killer. "What have you done with her? Have you harmed my daughter? Again!"

John glared back at the old man but said nothing. He had promised Helen that he would be on his best behavior and not allow her father to provoke him. James was to do the talking and John would attempt to not appear threatening in any way. Though Gregory had always been cordial to Druitt and did not withhold his consent when John had asked for Helen's hand in marriage, John had always known deep down inside that Dr. Magnus had not been enthused with his daughter's choice for a suitor. It had been very clear to him that Gregory preferred James as a match for his only child. If Helen had any inclination of her father's preference she had kept it to herself. Out of the four men within The Five, Watson was the only one of financial means and some social standing. And the two men shared some similar interests. John recalled Watson's comment about him sharing Gregory's interest in the subtleties of the Latin language back when the two former friends were trying to complete their task in Bhalasaam. The lines of Druitt's jaw tightened at the memory and he had to lower his eyes to keep the old man from seeing the hint of anger that had flared up over this old wound. Gregory had not been the only one who felt Helen would be better off with James, though none of those who felt this way had the guts to suggest such a thing to John's face.

"Calm yourself, my dear Dr. Magnus. Helen is fine. She is just a little under the weather," James tried to assure the worried father. "I give you my word that she is unharmed and that John is not a threat to any of us. He is here merely as a means of fast transport."

"Not a threat? The man is clearly deranged," Gregory exclaimed and then lowered his tone as he noticed the lines of the taller man's jaw and neck tightened in anger. He also noticed that Druitt kept himself at a non-combative stance behind Watson and made no attempt to defend himself. "What? Have you lost your tongue? You've nothing to say to me, the father of the girl who's heart you have crushed?" the old man asked bitterly. Despite his better instincts, Gregory had given this man his approval to court his beloved child only to have the big ox break her heart. That was not something he would ever forgive.

John lowered his head and kept his gaze half-lidded at the riled father of his beloved. James had better get the doctor into a more cooperative mood soon or else John would have to grab the old man and be done with this part of what he felt would be a tense evening for them all. Helen had been evasive in her reasoning for requesting that they retrieve her father. At first John had thought that it was because she longed to see the one man she idolized and had lost in this world, but then he realized that there had to be more to it than that. They were making preparations to leave soon and arrive on the other side. Somehow Gregory fit into these plans. James too must have picked up on this for he seemed to understand that it was important that they locate the old man.

Bending down, James picked the silver object and stood to offer it to Helen's father. He had a great deal of respect for Dr. Magnus and had not wanted to be put in the position of playing referee between Gregory and his one-time possible son-in-law. "Please, Gregory. Helen wishes to speak with you on an urgent matter. We have been trying to track you down for the last three days."

"So it has been you who has been following me for two days now?" Gregory asked the sleuth in agitation. "Why wait until now to approach me?"

Exchanging glances with a confused John, James frowned as he looked back at the older man. "We have only located you today, sir. It has taken us some time to track you to this hotel from where you indicated you were staying in the last letter you wrote to Helen."

Looking away from Watson's keen eyes, Gregory mumbled, "I had to leave earlier than I had anticipated" and offered no further explanation.

Out of the corner of his eye, James could see that John had also caught the vagueness of Gregory's answer. The doctor had always been somewhat mysterious in his activities so much so that Watson doubted that any one person truly knew the real Gregory Magnus. What he did know at this moment was that the doctor was worried about his safety. "Has someone been following you?" James softly queried with a raised eyebrow.

Gregory frowned and cast an anxious look at the two. "You are sure it wasn't either of you yesterday?" he asked as he narrowed his eyes at Druitt, who shook his head slowly but refused to speak. The doctor had ever reason not to believe the insane villain yet he oddly did. Something was very off and Gregory felt more in danger now that he knew it was neither of the two men standing before him. Moving to a nearby chair, the elderly man abruptly sat down with a worried look on his face. Though he had no proof he was becoming more certain by the minute that someone, or something, was stalking him.

Cognizant of the look of fear in the doctor's eyes, James moved closer and bent forward to place a firm hand on Gregory's shoulder, causing the older man to look up at him. "Are you possibly in danger, Gregory? You obviously feel as though someone is watching your movements."

Gregory opened his mouth to deny Watson's observation only to see the concern visible in the younger man's face and falter. "I am not sure," he admitted bluntly as he scratched at his dark beard, which was beginning to have gray sprinkled throughout. "There have been a few times in the past two days when I feel as though I may have been the object of someone's interest. I do not know who."

Tilting his head, James leveled a sharp look at him. "Then perhaps it is best for you to leave this place… at least for the time being. Helen would like to speak with you. We can take you to her and then return you to whatever place you chose. Will you come?"

Both men waited as the doctor glanced around thoughtfully trying to make up his mind what to do. It had been several months since he last saw his darling daughter at their London home. Being apart from her always left an empty void within him that he had to force himself to ignore as he went about on his travels. Though she was a grown woman with a life of her own to lead, Gregory still thought of her as his little girl. The fact that she was in her forties and a doctor did nothing to change that fact.

Finally, Gregory stood and announced his intention to go with them. "You are to saying nothing to Helen about my concerns regarding being followed," he warned them. "I am an old man," he said giving them a short, false smile, "and my mind plays tricks on me. I do not wish to worry my daughter."

"As you wish, Dr. Magnus," James genially replied as an encouragement. Gregory's reaction was of great concern to the sleuth and he felt that they needed to leave as soon as possible. If the doctor felt his safety was in question it probably was.

Waiting until Helen's father turned his back to them to begin quickly gathering his belongings, John moved close enough to James to whisper, "Something's wrong. He's afraid."

"I know," James whispered back. "We need to go." They ceased talking as Gregory turned around and came back to his desk to retrieve a few leather bound books which he carefully tucked into the smaller of his two bags. After giving the room one more sweep with his eyes Gregory carried his bags over to where the two awaited and stated he was ready to depart. John reached out to place a hand on Watson's shoulder and, as he did the same with Helen's father, he could feel the man shrink back slightly in fear. Inwardly sighing, John teleported them away in a blink of an eye.

Roughly ten minutes later the knob on Gregory's locked hotel door rattled softly. There was a pause and then a few faint clicking noises were discernible. Soon the door swung open with a loud creak and two dark figures entered. They moved swiftly through the room in search of their prey. The long curtains, the closet and even underneath the bed was inspected before both men ended up in the center of the small room. One window was opened onto the narrow balcony that could be no more than two feet in depth and there was no way down except for a long drop onto the pavement below.

"I thought you said you saw him enter the room," the smaller, plumper man rasped in anger.

"He did," the taller, dark skinned man replied in Arabic with a confused expression. "There is only one exit from this room. He could not have left unnoticed."

The plump stranger glanced around again. "And yet he is not here. The room has been cleared of all of Dr. Magnus's belongings," he observed in his strong, clipped English accent as he answered back in the servant's native tongue.

"His belongings were here earlier," the servant swore. "I searched them myself. The paper weight was not among the items. Nothing of that description was there."

"It seems the good doctor knew we were coming and fled," the stranger concluded with a snarl.

"But how?" the servant cried in amazement. "It should not have been possible for him to leave."

Snorting in disgust, the stranger made his way to the door. His prey was gone. There was no point in lingering. "Perhaps he jumped off the balcony and flew away," he snarked as he exited the room.

Alone in the room, the servant whispered to himself that the doctor must have been a ghost and moved his hand quickly over himself in a sign to ward off evil. He then turned and rushed out of the empty room.


	39. The Magnus Family Part 1

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 39: The Magnus Family Part 1

Helen pulled at the waist of her deep, plum colored gown and tried not to breath too deeply. All five of her gowns were beginning to feel tight around her waist and this gown was the least snug of the lot. As a doctor she knew that there were many variables involved in a pregnancy but despite that she had still expected this pregnancy to be exactly like her first. How wrong she was. With Ashley the morning sickness had been manageable and mostly non-existent by her second trimester. As she did not start showing until near the beginning of her sixth month, Helen had been able to hide her condition from most and she could honestly say that it was one of the few times in her life that she truly felt serene. She had waited almost a century to carry her precious bundle to term and everything seemed to fall perfectly in place. The when, how and where were all decided upon by her and it all went as smoothly as she had planned.

This go round was the total opposite. The second pregnancy had been both unplanned and unexpected and was frankly a miracle all around. Given their advanced age, neither she nor John should have been able to conceive another child yet here she was with another little one on the way. And the state of sereneness was elusive so far. She was still experiencing moments of morning sickness and the cold that she had been trying to sleeping off for the past five days was finally releasing its hold on her. Her expanding waist line, on the other hand, was just starting to take hold. The change had only been perceptible to her as she had kept herself clothed in her Victorian layers for the last two weeks. That would not last long though and she wondered if this tumultuous pregnancy was due to the fact that the child might be male. That would certainly be different. The sonogram's revelation that her first child would be female was rather a relief because a part of her had worried that the child could possess John's violent nature. While Ashley grew up to be a very good hunter she was neither deliberately cruel nor violent without cause. It had taken the genetic engineering of the Cabal to bring out those awful traits within her.

Raising a little boy would be different. Not worse, just different. She had raised Henry from infanthood so she had a good idea of what to expect when caring for a little boy. And she was more than fine with having a male child this go round now that she knew that John's transformation into Jack was not something that could be genetically passed on. Still, a part of her would miss the frilly dresses and the ribbons in the hair and the tea parties with little dolls and playing dress up on rainy days. Those were her favorite moments with Ashley when she was little. On second thought, her favorite moments were when her little golden angel was curled up into her arms as they snuggled under warm bedcovers and Helen read to her stories of fantastical creatures and princesses and wizards. And she would get to the end of the page and start to close the book only to hear Ashley's little musical voice plead with her for "Just one more chapter, mummy, please?" Those were her most cherished memories of her firstborn's childhood. Just the two of them curled against one another and lost in magical worlds from books brought alive through reading. This go round there would be three of them snuggled under the bed covers.

Fidgeting, Helen tried to take a deep breath to clear her nerves and growled in annoyance once more at the tightness of her gown. She wished the others were here already so that they could get what would undoubtedly be a taxing experience over with and finally move forward with executing their plan. She was more than ready to be back to modern times and get some much needed relief with her impending motherhood. Shopping was high on her list of things to do. A sonogram being the highest.

Her thoughts turned to the formidable man that was causing her current level of stress. James had felt that they would be able to find Gregory today. He and John had narrowed her father's location to a particular area of old Cairo that was behind the antiquities section of the Musky. The dense population and sheer number of buildings made for a complicated maze to search but she had no doubt that the pair would find Gregory. Both men were very apt hunters of their prey. Exactly what Gregory was doing in Cairo was a mystery to her, as was much of her father's life. He was supposed to be in Constantinople, at least according to the last letter he had posted to her, and yet he was in another country doing who knew what. He had never sent her any specimens or gifts from his side trip to Egypt, so why was he even there? She suspected that should she ask he would either flat out lie to her or else become indignant that she would dare to ask. So she thought it best to let it go. There were more pressing matters to discuss that were going to be difficult as it was.

Lost in her thoughts, it wasn't until she heard her name uttered that Helen realized that she was no longer alone in the room. Slowly turning around she found the three men standing a few feet away from her. Gregory, who had never experienced teleporting before, felt a bit disoriented for a few seconds before his eyes focused before him to land upon the vision of his daughter. Lowering his bags to the floor he had not taken a step towards her before she rushed into his arms. "Father!" Helen sobbed as she wrapped her arms around him and hugged tightly. It had been over two years since the last time she had seen him alive, when they said their goodbyes in Praxis. She squeezed him even tighter as she relived the flashback of finding his cane in the ruins of Praxis and realizing he had probably perished along with the majority of the residents of the futuristic city. "Oh father, how I've missed you," she whispered hoarsely.

Hearing the anguish in her voice, Gregory's eyes got watery as he felt her sink into him. "My dear child," he greeted as he patted her back, "it has not been quite that long, has it?"

As she leaned back to look him in the face and answer, "Longer than you might think," Gregory noticed her altered appearance for the first time. "Dear Lord, Helen, what have you done to your hair?" he asked in a shocked tone as he reached over to touch the long, dark red curls that cascaded over her left shoulder.

"My hair? Oh, um…" She had forgotten about how different she might appear to him. "It's just temporary. Nothing to worry about," she assured him in a somewhat congested, nasally tone. "I was bored and wanted to try something new."

Cupping her face with his hand, Gregory stared hard at her. "James said you had been sick. Have you taken any medicine? How are you feeling?" It was not common for her to become ill. She, like her father, was generally quite healthy. More so than most.

"Now that you're here I am feeling much better," she beamed. "I had a cold and am recovering now. You look tired," she observed as she led him to a nearby chair.

"I am," the old man admitted with an indulgence smile at his beloved daughter. "But I was brought here under the guise that you had something important to discuss with me." Glancing around, he admired the open, bright space. "Where are we?"

"Oh, just a little temporary meeting spot, nowhere important" she quickly dismissed in the hopes of deterring any questions on his part. "Would you like something to drink?" She hurried over to pour him a glass of Scotch before he gave his affirmative, causing Gregory to frown at his daughter's odd behavior as he stepped behind one of the arm chairs and rested his large hands on its back.

Meanwhile, John and James exchanged worried glances at Helen's nervousness. Neither man needed to express his concern that this meeting could go badly awry. Gregory Magnus was an unpredictable variable with his penchant for secrets. All four participants in the room were tense.

As her father took a deep sip of the malted drink, Helen sat down and properly locked her hands together as she prepared to leap forward with her strange requests. James and John, both taking her hint, seated themselves on either side of her. Across from them, Gregory eyed the trio with a weary look. Helen and her boys, as Gregory thought of them, was a recipe for trouble when together. They were too clever and too reckless for his taste. Whatever she had up her sleeve up this time it must be serious, which deeply worried him. Especially with the madman quietly sitting to her right. Druitt had yet to speak a word in his presence.

Holding the glass in one of his hands, Gregory straightened his spine and solemnly said, "Why am I here, Helen? And more importantly," he said, indicating John with a cold stare, "why is he here?"

"Forgive the impromptu meeting," Helen apologized, suddenly feeling like she was a little girl again being reprimanded by her father, "time is of the essence and John was the quickest mode of transportation at our disposal." At his continued glaring at John, Helen forced herself onward. "We need your help with…"

"I will not help you if it is for _him_," Gregory declared as he glared at the man that destroyed his daughter's life. Across from him, Druitt narrowed his eyes and tightened his jaw but again continued to say nothing. The man's refrain from being engaged bothered Gregory almost as much as his presence. He was worried that Druitt's anger would suddenly unleash and Helen would be right the path of the madman's fury.

"Will you help me if it is to save the life of your granddaughter?" Helen replied, causing her father to turn his astonished face to her.

"How do you know whether the child will be a male or female?" he asked with furrowed brows. This was all very strange and the fact that she would broach the subject of her unborn child with the child's monster of a father in the room unsettled him. The child had been hidden in secret from this man. Turning, Gregory gave the other man in the room a questioning glance. Watson, who had been in on the secret, gave the older man a nod of acknowledge, knowing exactly what Gregory was thinking, and gave Helen a sideways glance. This was her show, not his.

Helen and John exchanged nervous glances. "Because she was born decades ago…" Helen began, only to be cut off.

"You had the child?" he gasped and quickly sat down before his legs gave way. He had always known that at some point she would carry the child to term, but never did he expect she would do so while the baby's crazed father was still present. "How? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't tell you because I have not yet had her," Helen softly answered.

"What kind of riddle are you playing at, child?" her father retorted harshly as he grasped the arms of the chair in anger. "I am not in the least amused at this line of improper inquiry. This is not a joking matter," he insisted as he banged his cane on the ground in a huff.

Straightening her spine as her father had done earlier, Helen leveled her eyes back at him and reminded herself that in this conversation she was the elder. "This is neither a joke nor a game. And I am not a child... more like a very old woman," she explained patiently. "I am far older than the blonde counterpart of myself that is residing at the London Sanctuary at this very moment."

Gregory's jaw slackened as did his hold on the arm of the chair. "There are two Helens at this moment?" he asked hesitantly after a minute's pause as he tried to understand what she was saying. The woman that was staring back at him did not seem to be insane but then she was with Druitt and her appearance had been altered. Perhaps the villain had somehow poisoned her.

Helen gave him a wistful smile. "I am not crazy, father. I am merely…" she spread out her hands in an open gesture, "temporarily occupying a time and place that I should not be."

Father and daughter stared at one another. "That is not possible," Gregory finally said at last and pointed a finger at her. "One cannot exist in two places as two people at the same time."

"And yet here I am," she automatically smartly answered then bit her bottom lip. "The how is not important. It is the _why_ that we need to discuss." To her right, Helen heard James give a soft snort under his breath at her smarting back at her father. She resisted the urge to kick him in the shins and kept her focus on the annoyed man before her.

"Oh, I disagree," her father answered, glaring back at his insolent child. Helen had always been headstrong and stubborn but insolent towards him was not normal. "I believe the how is most important."

"We cannot tell you the how," John interjected, catching father and daughter in surprise as he finally spoke up for the first time. Honestly, this little power struggle between the two was getting old fast. "It would be dangerous for you to know all the details."

"Is that a threat?" Magnus elder grunted angrily.

John shook his head. "I am not a threat to you, Gregory. Nor is anyone else in this room."

"We cannot tell you the details because you, father, are the threat to yourself," Helen said, receiving her father's piercing look in response.

"I am a threat to myself now, am I?" the doctor snorted as he jumped up out of his seat to pace before them. "And how is that, pray tell?"

The situation was spiraling downward fast. "I need a drink," James declared, standing up and going over to pour himself a scotch. He raised an eyebrow in question to John, who nodded, and poured a second glass which he handed to Druitt. Both men saluted with grim frowns and took simultaneous gulps. Neither had been happy when Helen had announced that they needed to bring Gregory in for assistance.

Helen rolled her eyes at their sulking then caught the disappointed look on her father's face and sighed. "We cannot tell you everything because at some point in time you will be taken captive by a dangerous group whose objectives are the opposite of our own. I cannot prevent what happens to you because you yourself could not recall the events that lead to your being in their control." Pausing, she tried to gauge her father's reaction to the news. For the first time, his disbelief waivered as he struggled to come to grips with her words. "Your capture is very important to their objectives… and it is the key to what will eventually happen to my child."

"Why?" Gregory asked as he sat slowly down. His instincts were telling him that she was telling the truth though he didn't understand how that could be possible. "Why am I important to these people?"

"Because you are father to Helen Magnus and grandfather to her child," Helen answered, her eyes softening as the affection she felt for him shined through. "We are your blood descendents. And it is your blood that will be needed to achieve the twisted goals of our opponents." Gregory noted that her face hardened with the last part.

"Our daughter is the only biological child of two Source Blood parents," John added tightly as he placed his empty glass down onto the table between them. "A rare and beautiful creature… most desirable to those that wish to harness her gift and use it for their own evil purposes."

The doctor's face paled as the implications became clearer. "These people, who are…"

"You may not know their name yet, but you know they exist in some fashion. You've felt them watching you, haven't you, father? They move in the shadows around us already, keeping tabs on our activities while they build their own empires." She lowered her eyes to hide from him the hatred that suddenly surged up within her but he saw it in the way she dug her nails into her hands. "I did not know until too late how much they had been observing our movements."

"And my blood?" Gregory asked in a shaky tone though he had already had an idea of why his blood was need.

"They needed a blood match against hers," John supplied in a tone laced with anger. "They couldn't catch me and trying to capture Helen would have been risky, so they went after the only other blood connection they could find… you."


	40. The Magnus Family Part 2

Tempest in a Teapot

Author's Note: Had to delete and re-upload chapters 40-47 to fix typos. Fanfiction would not let update the errors without delete and reuploading the files again. Argh!

Chapter 40: The Magnus Family Part 2

"They needed a blood match against hers," John supplied in a tone laced with anger. "They couldn't catch me and trying to capture Helen would have been risky, so they went after the only other blood connection they could find… you."

Silence descended upon on the room as its occupants absorbed Druitt's rough words. The last traces of doubt and suspicion the elder doctor had about the trio's latest scheme evaporated as he lost himself in a whirlwind of fear and regret. He sunk down into the high backed chair, feeling every bit his advanced age, and closed his eyes as his heart beat loud and irregularly in his chest. The erratic thumping seemed to intensify with his eyes shut and he willed his out of control body to calm itself. His hands dug into each of the chair's curved arms as he slowly sunk into a meditative state.

Across from him, James frowned and leaned forward. He was worried about the doctor's state of health. Gregory's face had ashened at John's words, causing the old man to appear unusually frail and vulnerable. This was a side to Dr. Magnus that Watson had never experience before, despite having known him neigh on 15 years now. James's hawk-like eyes could just make out the quick pulse throbbing at the base of Gregory's neck as the older man tried to regain control of his emotions. Gregory Magnus was not a man to overtly show his emotion nor cause a scene. Something in the words John… or perhaps it was Helen… had uttered had struck a deep blow to the senior doctor's stone façade. And it was very important, whatever it was, James realized. Something that Gregory did not want to be known. That thought as it made its way through Watson's head brought with it an unexpected wave of fear. There was something decidedly wrong here. He glanced discreetly to his left at Helen, wondering if she too had caught the scent. All he saw on her face was concern for her father. John, as always, was focused on Helen and how Gregory's reaction would affect her.

Gregory's breathing shallowed as he slowly took back control of his nerves. Not being in control was something Gregory Magnus did not take well. He had been so careful for so long… sometimes going to extreme but necessary measures to keep his secrets, and yet in the end the truth had cost him a terrible price. Correction. It had been Helen, his beloved Helen, that had been the one to pay an unthinkable price. To have the child – a miniature version of Helen – taken from her mother was devastating news to him. Until Helen had come along he had thought that he would never have any real vestige of biological family in this world. It had taken a very long time to find a mate that was compatible enough to produce an actual offspring. And even then it had been only after 8 years of marriage that Patricia was able to become pregnant. She had fretted about the lack of children for five of those years.

Helen's conviction for having this needed conversation was faltering greatly as she watched her father's reaction to the news that his blood had been the key ingredient to the Cabal's unlocking of Ashley's genetic structure. She had not expected that he would take it this hard. In fact, she had expected him to refuse to accept any validity of her claims and argue with her. She was uncertain now how to proceed. They still needed his help though so she would have to force herself to go forward. Perhaps more gently now. The last thing she wanted was his health to be affected.

"It's not your fault, you know," she gently tried to assure him and frowned as she saw her father grimace as if in physical pain. "What happened to her. The fault lies with me. I am to blame."

Gregory's eyes fluttered open at her mournful words. "What did happen, Helen?" he softly asked, seeing the obvious pain in his daughter's eyes.

"Helen, don't," John whispered, knowing exactly what she was thinking about. "You couldn't have known what was going to happen."

Unable to stop the flood of emotion that arose in her, she confessed, "I let her go… against my better judgment… I let her go," as she replayed the events surrounding Ashley's abduction and her brief return to her mother before disappearing again for another two months. "It was a trap… and I let her walk right into it," she rasped as large tears began to fall from her sapphire eyes. "It was my fault. I was her mother. I was supposed to protect her."

Gregory and James both jumped in their seats when John barked "Helen, stop!" and grabbed a hold of her shoulders to force her to look him in the eye. "What happened to our daughter was solely the fault of those that took her, no one else. You did nothing wrong."

The tears continued to trail down her cheeks as she shook her head at him. The guilt of the part she had played in the events that lead to Ashley's death would never go away for her. "My fault," she whispered again in a haunted, far off tone.

John cupped the right side of her face and leaned close. He ignored the wet trail of tears that moistened his hand and kept his focus on her eyes. "Let go of your guilt and anger, luv. Everything will be alright. We will _make_ it alright. That's why we're here. Tell your father what it is you need for him to do. We're running out of time," he gently stressed. "We need to go."

Helen blinked back the last of her tears. John was right. They needed to go. And she needed to get her emotions under control. There was too much at stake here. She gave him a weak half smile and swiped at her wet cheek with the palm of one hand while the other hand tried to stifle her sniffs. A white object fluttered at the corner of her right eye and she turned to find James holding up a cloth handkerchief near her face. "Thank you," she murmured in embarrassment, taking the cloth to clean up her stained face. This was not at all how she had planned for this meeting to happen. Honestly, all these baby hormones were turning her into a blubbering idiot. Thank God Nikola wasn't privy to all of this. He would never let her live down acting like a "weepy female."

"What do you need to ask of me, Helen?" Gregory carefully prompted her. The pain he saw in her tore at his heart. He had always hated to see her or her mother crying. They were his true Achilles heel.

"We need to go," she repeated, once again looking him in the eye. "I need to ask you to do a few things in order to ensure that my daughter will remain safe in the future. Will you do them?"

"I will do whatever is in my power to keep my family safe," he declared in that quiet, firm way he possessed that had always made her feel secure as a child. "Tell me what you want of me," he said again.

"Have you yet discovered the lost Stone City in the Mountain?" she asked, relieved that he seemed willing to help them.

The elder doctor's salt-and-pepper colored brows creased heavily. He knew nothing about such a place. "Are you talking about Petra, the Lost City of Stone?" he guessed, wondering what that had to do with anything. "I have been there but it was long ago. Why?"

"No. The one I'm talking about is composed of bleached stone and is tucked hidden into the mountainside." Helen's face fell in disappointment at the blank look on his face. "You haven't discovered Avalon yet," she concluded. "I thought as much but it was still worth asking about."

"What makes you think I will?" he volleyed back curiously. She was being very cryptic in her inquiry. She was definitely his daughter he thought to himself wryly. Oddly, it made a part of him quite proud that his offspring was so much like him. Another part of him lamented that she was not more like her genteel mother. Patricia would never have dyed her golden locks such a dark, vivid color as Helen had done.

"Because it was listed among the records of the holographic map you sent me," she explained and had to chuckle when her father and James's eyes went wide and both exclaimed simultaneously, "Holographic map?!"

"We cannot tell you much about the map," John interrupted, giving James a smirk over Helen's shoulder. "So don't bother asking about it." He wiped the smirk off his face as he turned to find Gregory looking down his nose at him with an annoyed look. Grouchy old man, John thought to himself.

"Alright, so you have not yet found the city," Helen summarized quickly to move them past the idea of the existence of a holographic map, "but you will at some point. According to your notes it was mostly abandoned right before you arrived due to attacks by a warring faction. The very few that remained at the site left with you and the city then fell into disrepair and essentially became forgotten."

"What do you require with an abandoned city?" Gregory asked, intrigued by her description. It sounded like just the type of adventure he enjoyed.

Smiling at the little light that lit up in her father's eyes at the mention of the lost city, Helen explained, "We need some place to hide away our daughter until it is safe. Someplace that few know about and even fewer are able to penetrate. That city will serve well for such a function."

"You said the city fell into disrepair," James reminded her. "Would it be safe to go there if it is in ruins?"

"I believe only part of the city collapsed. One section, the oldest and most fortified, appears to have survived according to father's notes. Which would be fortunate because it is the part that runs parallel to the route leading off into the caldera down to Hollow Earth."

"Excuse me," James piped up as he held up one finger in exclamation, "Hollow Earth?" He glared back at them when Helen and John gave him their patent "don't ask and I won't have to lie to you" look. It was really annoying to have them know more than him so often and for them to refuse to clue him in.

"Let it go, James," Helen advised. "It is nothing that you need to consider for a very, very long time."

"Easy enough for you to say," he sniffed indignantly. "My imagination rebels at the thought of letting it go." John gave a soft snort of laughter while Helen merely gave him a sympathetic look.

John then gave Helen a sideways look. "Perhaps it is unwise to give so much detail?"

At the mention of Hollow Earth, Gregory's face tightened almost imperceptivity and his eyes narrowed at her daughter. How in the world had she found out about that? He had done everything he could to make sure she didn't find out about that place. It would be disastrous should she ever set foot there. As she had been looking at James, Helen had missed her father's reaction but James hadn't. John just assumed that Gregory was confused about everything Helen was talking about.

Gregory saw in Watson's keen eyes an awareness that his two companions did not share. Clever lad, the old man thought somewhat proudly. He had always been very fond of James and saw in the sleuth a bit of himself as a younger man. If only Helen had chosen him over the big ox sitting to her left Gregory bemoaned silently to himself for what had to be the thousandth time. Watson was the true man of equal worth to rule their family's empire alongside her.

Facing Gregory again, Helen clarified, "You were able to keep any details regarding Hollow Earth hidden despite being held captive by a very dangerous group. I'm not sure why. I suspect it's because they did not know enough to ask the right questions. Whatever the reason, it was to our advantage. This is why I feel it is safe enough to share some details." She paused to sneeze twice before continuing. "It is very important, father, that before you depart from Avalon that you alter its security devices. Set them to trigger against anyone who does not have any trace amount of Source Blood in their body. You will probably need to have a little vial of the Source Blood with you to program the security devices." She paused to allow the older man time to absorb her words. "In fact, it would be good if you were to leave a small amount of the Source Blood behind in the city. Hide it away and leave me a note of some kind with directions on how to find the vial. We may need it."

Gregory visibly stiffened. "And why would I want to do that? You disobeyed me once with the Source Blood and look where it got you," he gruffly reprimanded. If this whole incident was some sort of sham for getting their hands on the Source Blood again Gregory was going to throttle his sneaky child.

"We may need it to alter the terrible effects on our daughter should we not be able to prevent what happens to her," John answered. His broad face took on a sorrowful expression as he thought about the last time he had seen his daughter… when they had had their physical confrontation and he had plunged a sword into her chest and her eyes had briefly returned to their light blue before she was possessed again. He had tried to murder his only child. What kind of a monster was he?

"If you don't feel comfortable with leaving a sample of the blood behind at the city that's fine," Helen continued on, unaware of the internal struggle that was happening within the man seated next to her. "I can always work with my own blood to counter the effects if necessary. However, I do need you to alter the remainder of Source Blood you have hidden away already."

"Alter how?" Gregory questioned suspiciously, still unable to figure out exactly what was going on in her pretty, sneaky little head.

Helen bit her bottom lip for a moment, then barreled on. "Alter it so that its effects will not last beyond a certain period of time. Set it so that the blood will begin to deteriorate once it is removed from its pedestal in Bhalassam. The deterioration must be so slow that it will be difficult to notice until too late," she insisted.

"Bhalassam!" James croaked. "It's real? I mean, really real? It's not just some fictional place in a long lost myth that Tesla drones on and on about?"

Eyes bugged out, the elderly doctor stared at the trio seated across from him in disbelief. How the hell had she figured out where he had hidden it? And more importantly, how did she know it was resting on a secret pedestal? "You've been there," he rasped in accusation, "and taken it, haven't you?"

"Yes," Helen admitted unabashedly. "But that will take place a very long time from now." She leaned forward and gave him a deadly serious look. "It must be there when that we come for it, Father. That vial of Source Blood is tied in to what happens to my child. It needs to appear exactly the way you have it now. The only change would be your altering of the blood itself."

Overwhelmed, the older man stood up and began pacing in agitation. "And how am I to accomplish that? How does one alter blood to remain stable and then deteriorate on cue?"

"Set it to mutate. It has become accustomed to the environment of Bhalassam. You can program it to begin deteriorating once removed from that location… preferably to completely break down before the end of two months." At his dark unconvinced look, she pompously informed him, "You will figure it out. I have every confidence in you. The technology will be available to you when the time is right."

"You have more confidence in me that I deserve," he gruffly answered. "I do not know how to do this, Helen. It is an impossible task."

"The tasks you set aside for us in order to retrieve the blood is proof enough that you are capable of ingenious thought," John grudgingly praised, then gave a soft chuckle. "Tesla wasn't too happy about completing his task. It left him with the overall impression that you aren't overly fond of him," John smirked.

"I'm not," Gregory frostily returned. "That would apply to you as well."

"Then lucky for me he's as clever as he is," John shot back, motioning to James with his head. Watson arched an eye in response to the obscure reference which he knew he wasn't going to get an answer to anytime soon.

"You can do it, father," Helen interrupted. "Trust me."

"I don't have much choice on that, do I?" he grumbled, squinting one eye at her in displeasure. When she gave him a little hopeful smile he sighed and dropped his head. From the time she was a small child she had expected him to move mountains and do the impossible. Sometimes he was able to do enough to make it appear so but this request would stretch him too far.

"I know it appears that I am asking the impossible of you," she said quietly. "Based on what I saw and what Ranna told me, Praxis is so advanced that you should have no problem finding a way to accomplish the impossible."

"Ranna!" Gregory, his face paling once more, cried in alarm. "What do you know of her? What did you tell her of us?"

The same confused frowns appeared on John and Helen's faces. "I think the question is what do _you_ know of her," Helen stated very slowly as she eyed her father.

"I asked you first," Gregory demanded in a tight voice. "Did you interrogate her? Is that how you know about Praxis and Hollow Earth?" His voice rose as the anger built up in him. "She is just a child, for God's sake, Helen. How could you?!"

John and Helen both froze, shocked by the display of anger by the elder Magnus.

"You described her as being just a few years younger than yourself when you met," a perplexed John stated aloud to Helen. "How is it possible he," he motioned to her father, "knows her as a child? I know those in Praxis can live longer than most but this is too bizarre to be coincidental."

At hearing John's words, Gregory collapsed back into his chair, his temper swiftly deflated, and he gripped the arms of the chair with shaking hands. She didn't know… and his display of anger probably just gave him away. Silently he pleaded with the fates for her not to put the pieces together. He had worked so hard to keep the truth from being known. She would never forgive him for this betrayal.

"It's not," Helen answered woodenly and stared unblinkingly into the deep, soulful eyes of her parent for a long minute. "Exactly how old are you, father?" she dared to ask in a curious, child-like voice.

Blinking, the old man softly replied, "Old enough, child." He could see in her eyes awareness of the truth taking hold of her and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Helen thought back to her only in-person meeting with Senator Ranna Seneschal. As she replayed various moments between the two, comments Will had once uttered slammed back into her consciousness. He had offhandedly noted that both women were very similar. They were both of similar height, coloring, eye color, had British accents, and were coolly tempered and clever. "If I didn't know any better," he joked, "I'd have guessed you two formidable Brits were long lost sisters." At the time, Helen had laughed at him but she wasn't laughing now. Right now she was staring straight at her father and the look of abject fear in his eyes told him what she did not want to know. She also recalled Ranna admitting to her while they were in the tunnels that she was very fond of Gregory and had thought of him as a father figure. "Oh my God," Helen gasped and clamped a hand to her mouth quickly as a wave of nausea swelled up in her.

Looking between the two, James knew that something important had just happened but didn't have a clue what it was. He gave John a questioning look and received blank look in response that said Druitt didn't have a clue what was happening either.

"Helen," John asked tentatively as he observed her blanch, "are you alright?"

Ignoring him, Helen's eyes began to water as she continued to stare at the one man she idolized above all others. He had lied to her. Fundamentally lied about something as important as this. And he had kept his secret to his death. He had not wanted either of them to know about the other.

"Helen," Gregory rasped out in a pleading tone. "Please, I…"

She quickly stood up, clenching her hand over her stomach in a defensive stance. "Excuse me. I don't feel so well," she exclaimed breathlessly and fled the room before she would break down in tears again. She side stepped her father's hand as he reached out to stop her and slammed the door to the bedroom behind her as she sought refuge on the bed. There, she buried her face into the pillows and sobbed silently. All those long sixty years she had thought him dead, and all the while he had been living in Praxis with his other family. The Cabal must have captured him when he had returned to the surface, just a few years before she and Ashley had discovered him in that warehouse. How could he just let her think he had died all those years ago? What kind of parent would do that to their child?

Helen had refused to tell John what was wrong when he checked on her, insisting that she was feeling poorly and in need of quiet rest. He knew she was lying but decided not to push her. Whatever unspoken event that had occurred between father and daughter had caused a deep wound. He would not compound it further by cross examining her.

An hour had passed before Gregory got up the nerve to speak to her. His soft knocks on the door went unanswered so he finally opened the door and entered. She had her back to him, facing the window on the other side. Closing the door behind him, he walked up to the bed and stared down at her. "Helen," he called tentatively and was disappointed when she refused to acknowledge him. He knew she was awake from the way she had clutched the pillow to her tighter as he approached the bed.

"It is not entirely what you think," he explained solemnly as he sat down on the bed behind her. "I swear." When she still refused to speak to him, he added, "I did what I thought was best… for all of us. It has to be this way for all of our safety."

"I don't care," she whispered hoarsely. "Keep your secret. It doesn't matter anyway."

Gregory sighed heavily and a long moment of silence dragged on between the two. Helen was a very stoic child normally, but on those rare occasions when she felt like stubbornly sulking she was next to impossible to reason with and one had to merely allow her to sulk. "I will try to do what you have asked of me to the best of my power," he firmly promised. "I know not yet how I will do it, but I will."

After a moment, she silently nodded. "I'm going to leave you now, Helen" he regretfully said, "but I want you to remember something very important. I love you… more than you could possibly ever know, my girl." The only response he received from her was a soft sniffle which she suppressed in her pillow. Gregory sighed again, stood up and slowly made his way to the door. As his hand grasped the knob, he heard Helen quietly say, "I love you too." A grateful smile tugged up the corner of the old man's mouth. "Goodbye for now, my dearest Helen."

"Goodbye, father," Helen whispered back as he left the room. Gregory didn't know it but this could well be the last time they would see one another unless she was able to change the fate of Praxis a century from now.


	41. Back to the Future

Tempest in a Teapot

Chapter 41: Back to the Future

It had started out as one long, seemingly never ending night of polite chitchat, drinking, and dodging the advances of clusters of infatuated wives and the jealous glares of their even more boring husbands. Not that it was hard to understand why the women were drawn to him. Two minutes of listening to their dull spouses prattle on about their insignificant lives and he found himself nodding absently along as his eyes roved the room looking for better entertainment. The problem was he was the best entertainment in the room. He eventually ended up in a corner of the library with four agreeable, somewhat intelligent companions discussing different scientific theories and why they should and should not work.

The little red head that sat nearby listening with rapt attention added a little spice to the rousing conversation and the evening ended with a very private rendezvous in a forgotten room on the second floor. The little minx had even tried to get him to stay the night with her but he preferred his own bed with his own linens. Not even the beginning of gentle rain that would muck up his perfectly polished shoes could convince him to stay. And as he walked along the sidewalk back to his hotel his mind turned away from thoughts of intimate embraces to that of the lightening show starting in the sky above. It was two in the morning and the city was quiet except for the sounds of the rain and rumbling thunder. He liked storms, especially the electrified lightning that flashed fluidly across the sky. Halfway to his hotel he turned in the opposite direction and set off for his laboratory instead. The location would afford a better view of the light show that was headed his way.

Helen closed her eyes and breathed in deeply as the soft sprinkles of rain fell outside. She was standing in the doorway watching the electric show beginning in the sky while behind her another type of electric show was taking place. Two hours earlier she and John had assembled the supporting structure for the continuum device. Twenty minutes ago John had activated it, insisting that she be out of the way of the oncoming voltage that would be conducted between the triangle of tall receivers. In the center of this triangle was the device on its tall support, which they had rigged to direct the energy blast down into the bare ground underneath. When the device was fully charged the doorway would open, they hoped, to the year 2002 and they would finally return home. Or as close to it as when they had originally left.

The structure around her shook as booming waves of thunder bellowed above. She had wished for a grand storm to escort them out and she was certainly getting her wish. The storm offered the additional advantage of providing a sound buffer for when the device would reach its peak and give its short power blast as the doorway was briefly opened. Reading Worth's notebook had convinced her that the massive explosion that had occurred in Praxis was no accident. Adam could have taken the time to route the explosion downward into a focused path but instead he had chosen to allow the enormous voltage to escape unfocused around him thus purposefully causing an uncontrolled explosion that killed thousands. It was his way of getting revenge against those that had outcast him from Hollow Earth and kept him from completing his mission to save Imogene.

Taking another deep breath, Helen reveled in the moisture and growing electricity that stirred in the air as her right hand lovingly stroked her growing stomach. She was nearly five months pregnant and had had to resort to ripping out the seams inside the waist line of the only dress that still halfway fit. There was no point in purchasing more dresses which she would only have to discard when they returned home. Her little bulge was definitely visible now, much to the delight of the baby's father who had confessed that now that he could see the baby he felt that it was no longer a mere dream on his part. He had palmed her stomach so much that week that she finally had had enough and had informed him that she was not a Buddha whose stomach was to be rubbed for good luck. When he pointed out that she herself often rubbed her stomach she retorted back that that didn't count as a groping herself. "But you like it when I grope you," he teased as he pulled her into his arms for a deep kiss while his hand possessively rested on her stomach.

Several large drop of water hit her in the face, waking her from her pleasant memory. Behind her, she heard John loudly call out her name as he came to retrieve her. This was it. It was time to go home. They silently stared at one another, each taking deep breath as the enormity of what was about to happen pressed down upon them. Before they had set up the device John had asked her again if she really wanted to this. They couldn't guarantee this would work, that they wouldn't die in the process… that their innocent baby wouldn't die. The determination that they both had had early on was waivering as her stomach was expanding. She had decided they would proceed then, just as she was determined that they would proceed now. Slowly, she lifted her hand to him and slowly he reached forward to take it. Time seemed to freeze for a second and then she felt herself moving forward to meet him.

The lithe figure in gray was about a block away from his laboratory when his sharp eyes made out the shapely figure standing in his doorway. His mind registered the shape of a female figure in a full gown and his feet skidded to a stop. Surely he was dreaming. Or drunk. I don't get drunk he reminded himself with a hard shake of his head. The figure turned in the doorway and his jaw dropped open a moment later when the sky lit up with yet another large wave of lightning. In the few seconds that the sky was alit he could see her face in profile. It was a face he knew well… one he sometimes dreamed about. But how?

Meanwhile, hands tightly clasped, Helen and John had weaved their way through the voltage storm taking place inside to reach the continuum device which was glowing an almost blinding white. With his other hand John reached down to pick up her black carpet bag. Tucked inside was Adam's notebook, her cherished Phoenix feathers, and whatever else little treasures she could fit inside. What there was not was a stitch of clothing for the either of them. They were more than ready for more comfortable modern clothing.

Both stiffened their spine, said a silent prayer that they would arrive safely on the other side and, with one final squeeze of her hand, the terrified couple stepped into the shimmering circle that had opened up before them.

Outside the building, fast footsteps raced towards the building. Surely he was dreaming. What he saw was impossible. She was in London. Her recent letter to him was posted from there and the occasional correspondence with James over the last six months concurred that she was there. So why was he having a waking dream that she was at his facility. As he got within twenty-five feet of the door his sensitive ears picked up a steady humming sound that seemed to be growing in pitch. Someone was tampering with his equipment. Sabotage! His blood began to boil with anger, causing his other persona to emerge. His eyes blackened and his nails grew as did his fangs.

Panting, he entered the building and hesitated as he took in the storm of voltage flying between his tall receivers. That wasn't what took his breath away. It was the faint image of the ruffled hem a woman's plum colored gown disappearing into a shimmering, tall circle that he could just make out at the side angle of his approach. This was one of those rare occasions when he was actually left speechless.

The circle's quick fading forced him to blink and come back to his senses. "Wait!" he unconsciously cried out as he rushed around to what he thought was the front of the circle. He was within 8 feet of the spot when he felt the ground beneath him give way as a sudden explosion occurred far below him. Giving out a strangled yelp, he felt himself falling downward as dirt and rocks rained down on him.

Twenty feet under, he ended up laying face down in the rubble. Growling, he pulled himself upright and tried to dust himself off as he looked around and then upward to get his bearings. "Son of a bitch," he roared as he began scaling up the dirt wall back to the surface. "I don't know who did this but when I do," he huffed as he quickly made his way up, "somebody is going to pay!" Reaching the top, he dragged himself over the side and sat down with his feet dangling into the hole. The shimmering circle was gone. The woman, or whatever it was that he saw… and, as a brilliant scientist, he was not inclined to believe it was a ghost… was gone. The only thing left was the weakening voltage that flew between his receivers as they powered down on their own. They seemed to have been programmed to turn off as if on a timer. Looking back down into the hole he growled once more and flexed his pointed nails outward in a furious gesture. "Nobody blows a hole in Nikola Tesla's laboratory and gets away with it," he barked in the large empty space. "I'll find you," he promised, "even if it takes me a century to do it, I'll find you!"

The recipients of his ire were too far away to hear his profane tirade. Hands still tightly intertwined, John and Helen found themselves in a dark, cluttered and slightly foul smelling alleyway. Both of their heads pivoted around as they tried to figure out where they were. Voices and music could be heard coming from one end of the alley. Helen had taken two steps forward, her hand slipping free of John's when she was abruptly yanked back. Regaining his hold on her hand, John glared at her worriedly. "We stay together," he hissed in a whisper, though why he was whispering he didn't know. Helen, who was about to complain about the iron clad grip he had on her hand, saw the concern on his face and instead nodded. She knew instinctively that he was afraid they would get separated and he had every right to be worried. They had no idea when or where they were. They were supposed to have landed in Edinburgh in 2002 but there was nothing in this alley way to confirm that.

"And you've forgotten something," he reminded her with a motion of his head at her bag.

"Oh," she exclaimed and hurriedly opened her bag to grab the two metallic objects. She looked at the items then gave him a wicked little smile. "Shall I administer yours?" she flirted.

He gave her a knowing look. "You just like stabbing people with needles, don't you?" He slid one arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. "Or is it just me?" he purred seductively.

She purred back, "I am a doctor."

He grinned. "Yes, and I am your oldest patient. And you are a firm believer in equal rights. So, if you stab me I get to stab you back, right?"

Brow creasing, she back tracked, "This might start an unnecessary precedence with us. I think it best to rescind my offer."

"Wise decision." He gave her a kiss on the nose at the same time he reached for one of the items. "We can take turns doing other things to one another at a later time," he teased before jabbing himself in the neck with a scowl.

"I might take you up on that deal," she answered back before following his lead. They dropped the used vaccinations into her bag and once again moved forward together toward the noisiest end of the alley. The night air was a bit nippy and damp and Helen was grateful for the shawl she had draped around her shoulders. Keeping themselves hidden in the dark, they stared in amazement at the people wandering up and down the well lit street with bright neon signs. A cacophony of loud voices competed with music booming from the different pubs and nightclubs. The lilting accents they heard around them caused them to face one another and grin. A lot of Scottish accents to be sure.

"It appears as if we're in the right country," Helen remarked, unable to take her eyes off the activity before them. The clothing was definitely modern and her eyes zeroed in on a pair of amazing leather black boots that were clicking their way into a nearby pub. "We just need to find out when and then get in touch with James."

John smirked. "No time like the present," he whispered in her ear as he eyed a lone figure walking their way. He waited until the man was right before them before suddenly stepping out in front of him. "Hello," he greeted and tried to give his most benign smile. "Would you happen to know the date?"

The man gave him a weary look and stepped back. "It's October 31, 2002. Why?"

"Oh, just curious," John drawled. "Um, I know this might sound a little crazy and all but uh what country are we in?"

Taking two steps to the left, the skittish man snorted, "Like you don't know, mate?" When John just tilted his head to stare at him the man quickly said "Scotland."

"Thanks," John answered with a nod and moved back to allow the man to pass. Behind him he heard a soft chuckle followed by "Halloween. What are the odds?"

He stepped back into the shadows to stand next to her. "Well, we are dressed for it. Though I don't know that Halloween is celebrated here." The rumbling of her stomach caused them both to laugh.

"I told you you should have eaten before we left," he gently reprimanded as he rubbed her stomach.

Rolling her eyes at him, she answered, "I didn't want to risk getting nauseous while traveling. Now however I wouldn't mind a bite."

He smirked. "Well, in that case," he reached out of the darkness to grab another man passing by, yanked him into the dark and knocked him out with a sharp blow to the back of the head. He heard Helen's startled gasp as he lowered the body to the ground and looked up to find her frowning at him. "He'll have a headache when he wakes up but otherwise he'll live," he coolly explained as he felt around in the man's jacket for his wallet. He removed some bills from the stranger's wallet before tucking it back into the man's pocket and stood upright. "Judging by the growling of your stomach I thought it might be a good idea to have some money for dinner. We can find a nice restaurant while waiting for James to join us." He raised an eyebrow at her as if to defy her to criticize his actions.

She smacked her lips lightly in response and looked back at him with a smile. "It's Halloween, 2002, and we're in Edinburgh and you're brilliant," she declared as she leaned forward to kiss him on the lips in reward for his programming the continuum device to the proper time and place. "And we want Thai," she demanded as she leaned back and bent to pick up her bag. He took it from her with one hand and intertwined his other with one of hers.

"Thai it is, then," he murmured as he kissed the side of her temple. "I wouldn't want to disappoint _we_," he said, understanding that "we" referred to her and their child. The baby's parents had accomplished the impossible and now they were going to celebrate.


	42. Hello Again

Author's note: I had to revise the last chapter after reading back through the story and realizing that I got the return date wrong. They were actually supposed to arrive five years before James' death, which takes place in 2007. The last chapter was revised to reflect that it is 2002 when John and Helen return to the near future.

Chapter 42: Hello Again

It was times like this when he really wished he still smoked his pipe. Closing his eyes briefly, he could easily imagine the fragrant smell of the tobacco smoke wafting up around him and the soothing repetition of puffing on the pipe as he worked out whatever problem was beleaguering him at the time. He sighed and opened his tired eyes to gaze into the moonlight garden.

It had been a rather long day. After slogging through hours of paperwork, reading and signing field reports and inspecting the latest addition to the Sanctuary, he had to then turn on his charm to court investors and to cheerfully mingle with colleagues at a Halloween ball fundraiser at the estate of a wealthy American benefactor. The location, with its vast grounds and fountains, was beautiful and under other circumstances he would have enjoy them immensely. The laughter of three guests and the crunching of their shoes on the gravel caught his attention as they careened by the fountain to reenter the mansion by way of the double French doors off to his left.

Two other guests, pressed closely together wandered through the doors and halted when they caught sight of him standing half lit on the far end of the covered walkway. He nodded in acknowledgement and suppressed a smile as the couple, almost caught in an intimate moment, nodded back at him and quickly stepped down onto the path to walk away from the house. They tried hard to play down their relationship but those in the know were well aware of it. Once they were almost out of sight, the couple moved back closer together as the female slipped her arm through the man's and their heads turned towards one another affectionately. As they rounded the tall yew hedges, he heard the woman's contagious laughter and had to smile. He knew that laugh as well as he knew the back of his hand. It was lighter and more carefree than that of her mother's, which was no surprise given how young she was. His goddaughter was so much like her mother in many ways, but he could also see some of her father in her as well. Not that he would ever voice such a thing to her mother.

That depressing thought brought on a deep sigh from the aged sleuth and he rounded the corner to lean against the two story column and stare out into the side garden. It was quieter here. For what was probably the millionth time he wondered where they were and if they were even still alive. It had been over a century since he had last seen them. 1901 to be precise. The irony was that her younger counterpart, if 152 could be considered younger, was just inside the building behind him, holding court with several prominent investors and admirers. And she did have her choice of admirers… including himself. Though the romantic part of their relationship had long dissipated decades ago, due mostly to the fact that they were both stubborn control freaks who were too much alike to stay together, they still adored one another and had a strong working relationship.

His mind wandered back to the dark pair lost in time. Frankly, he missed them. Few people were able to keep his interest for long and they were nothing if not infinitely interesting. Crazy too, but then at times wasn't he as well? He did after all inject himself, along with his classmates, with serum derived from vampire blood just to see what would happen. If that didn't make him crazy he didn't know what did. Keeping the types of abnormals he had in the lower levels of his Sanctuary probably also classified him as being crackers.

"Such a somber countenance on such a lighthearted occasion as a Halloween ball," a deep voice quietly rumbled behind him.

Freezing at the sound of the familiar voice, Watson blinked as caution flowed through him. Which version of the man would he find behind him? The old, lost best friend he had not seen in a century or the insane madman that had tortured him in Normandy? Finding his courage, he slowly pivoted around to face the addressor.

"Hello, Snoopy Pants," the tall figure greeted as he emerged from the shadows to stand before him. "Miss me?"

A smile began to blossom across the other's angular face. "I told you to stop calling me that. And what the hell took you so long?"

Snorting a laugh, John clamped one of his large hands onto the shorter man's shoulder. "I got here as fast as I could. It's only been a day since I last saw you."

"It's been a century for me," James replied and looked behind him. "Where's Helen?"

"She's resting at the mausoleum. She thought it unwise to come too close to the house given that her younger self is here. Might make for a confusing and messy occasion should they run into one another," he answered. "Especially given the fact that one of them is five months pregnant and bursting at the seams."

A look of wonder passed over Watson's face. "It really has been just a day for you?" he asked, to which Druitt nodded.

John understood what his old friend was feeling. He had felt the same discombobulated way when he had arrived back in late Victorian England while chasing after Helen and Adam. "To be more accurate, it's been a really long day and we could do with a rest. Is the safe house ready to go?"

"You mean my vacation house to get away from it all?" James grinned. "Naturally."

John gave a quick glance back at the house, from which muffled music and voices bleed out from the numerous windows that were set into the walls.

"It's fine," James said, guessing what the other man was thinking. "Anyone wondering where I've gone will just assume I've returned to my hotel or left with someone else. I've got the next three days scheduled for research at an old abbey in an isolated part of the Scottish coast. Your timing couldn't have been better. " He stepped into the darkness from which John had emerged and together the two men made their way from the house towards the mausoleum on the other side of the grounds. The mechanical noise of Watson's leg braces the only sound audible as they walked. Druitt slowly ambled next to him, silently struck by the change in his old friend's physical condition. He had, of course, seen James this way before but over the course of the last two years had grown accustomed to Watson's youthful, healthy version. The reminder of Watson's oncoming death in five years weighted on his heart and he sighed quietly to himself. He wondered if James remembered what the milestone of their reappearance was and, if he did, the old boy was keeping it hidden well.

Meanwhile, at the mausoleum, Helen sat in the dark on the corner of the west steps of the stone building. Her back was slumped against the smooth surface of the tall structure and she stared sleepily to the side at the mansion lit up in the distance. Her lone bag sat by her side. Towards the end of their meal, during which she had practically wolfed down her food she was so hungry, she had recalled exactly where James would be this evening. Laughing at the irony, she had shared with John that James was with her at a costume ball in the countryside outside of London. John, familiar with the area, had teleported them nearby and then left her to rest while he went to retrieve their old friend.

Inhaling the scent of grass mixed with the crispness of the cool night, Helen once again raised a prayer of thanks to the heavens for delivering them safely home. Closing her eyes, she pulled her shawl tighter around her and rubbed at her upper arms against the night chill. She thought what luck it was that her remaining dress was the warmest. Sighing, she started to drift off to sleep when voices nearby startled her back into awareness of her surroundings.

"Are you sure you won't be missed?" a young man's voice asked. He had a soft southern accent that sounded vaguely familiar to the eavesdropper. Silently peeking around the corner, Helen's eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open as she recognized him and his companion. "Ashley," she whispered as her right hand unconsciously drew up to her throat.

Before her, the young couple stood mere feet away on the south side of the mausoleum. Alex Shepard, a freelance photographer who worked for such organizations as the Smithsonian Magazine and National Geographic, was sitting down in the center of the south steps, right before the doorway into the structure. He was dressed as James Dean in blue jeans with a white t-shirt and leather jacket and his normally wavy hair had been gelled back into a sleeker do.

The object of both of their attentions stood before him in a glittery, light pink flapper dress with her long blonde tucked under a short blonde wig complete with a matching headband. The dress was no cheap imitation either but a designer original that had belonged to Helen herself. Ashley had had it taken in to fit her leaner figure and it hugged her in all the right places. The full moon above bathed its light down behind the girl causing her to appear as if she had a halo around her and her mother's breath caught as it struck her how beautiful her first born truly was. It seemed to have also occurred to the man for his eyes were glued to her person.

Swaying her hip slightly to the right, thus causing the fringed bottom of her dress to dance in the light, Ashley smiled back at her suitor. "Hardly. My mother is always the center of attention at these things. I'm sure the absence of my presence won't even be noticed."

"I doubt that," Alex drawled, leaning back on his elbows to openly leer at his companion. "James Watson noticed your departure."

"He notices everything," Ashley flippantly shot back. "He's kind of creepy that way." Taking a predatory stride towards him, she swung her hip in the other direction and continued to flirt with him.

"Helen Magnus is kind of creepy that way too," Alex said, taking his eyes away from her gorgeous face to rake down then back up her equally gorgeous figure. "She seems to have her eye on everyone in that room, as if she knows who's who and what's what. Quite an enigma, your mother."

Frowning, Ashley came to a stop before him and put both hands on her hips. "What's with all the questions about my mother? If you're one of those weirdoes who is into mother and daughter affairs you should know that I have a tendency to shoot first and ask questions later. And I generally hit my target the first time." She squinted one eye closed and pointed her right hand at him in an imitation of a gun. "Pow. Right through the heart."

He threw his head back in a bark of laughter before leaning forward to grab a hold of her right arm and pull her to stand between his sprawled long legs. "You have nothing to worry about on that front, sweetheart. As attractive as your mother is, I get the distinct impression that she's not someone that you can easily get to know very well. She's what we in the south would call a very cool cucumber."

Placated, Ashley wrapped her hands around behind his neck and raised her eyebrow at him seductively. "What makes you think I'm easier to get to know?" she purred.

He smirked at her as his hands came to rest on her hips. "I certainly hope I can get to know you better, otherwise my plans for tonight will be a complete waste of time."

She laughed. "And what plans would that be, mister? Perhaps my prim and not always so proper mother might not approve." She swayed her hips again, oddly loving the way the delicate long, beaded fringe of the dress's skirt moved against her body, and smiled wider as his hands slid further down her hips in a more intimate manner.

He pulled her closer. "Perhaps given my plans for our evening we should stop talking about your formidable mother. That would definitely cross over into the creepy side and kill the mood." He leaned up for a kiss only to have her place a finger teasingly on his lips.

"And what plans would that be, country boy? Hopefully more than making out in the shadows of a tomb. That's only romantic if you're a vampire."

"There's no such thing as a vampire," he retorted and licked her finger, causing her to giggle and pull her hand away.

"Right. No such thing as vampires," she answered as she leaned down to give him a passionate kiss.

At their far left, Helen pulled back, suddenly slightly embarrassed at spying on her daughter's intimate moment with her lover. Alex had been right. Helen had been aware of those that surrounded her this evening, including the fact that he was privately courting her daughter. She knew they were lovers but had never witnessed them kissing. For that matter, she had never witnessed Ashley kissing any man other than her affectionate pecks on Henry, James and her Old Friend, who were all basically family members. She realized for the first time that Ashley, like her mother, had carried on a quiet love affair, away from the prying eyes of her _formidable_, as Alex had called her, parent. Leaning her head back against the cool wall, she breathed out heavily as a pair of tears fell from her sapphire eyes. Her daughter was more like her mother than even Helen had known and it pained her to know that she had missed out on important aspects of her child's life.

"There was never enough time," an angry Ashley had said to her as they stood awkwardly looking out onto Rome after John's departure following their rescue of Helen from Tesla and his vampire spawns in the catacombs.

The phrase of _not enough time_ rang in her head. She had not taken the time to know the more intimate aspects of her then only child's life. Had Ashley ever truly been in love with a man the way she had been with John? She didn't think so but she honestly could not answer that question. _Not enough time_ she reminded herself. Well, there was going to be a lot of time available for them to get to know each other better during the four years that they would be in hiding, until the timelines converged to the point where the younger versions of herself and John would go back in time and complete the circuit.

The sound of the couple moving away pulled her out of her reverie and she peered back around the corner to see them slowly stroll away, arms wrapped around one another with Ashley's head resting on her suitor's shoulder. Helen quietly stood up and watched them make their way across the lawn.

A sudden shift in the air beside her alerted her to the presence of another. She didn't have to turn to know that it was John. His scent was oh so familiar to her and her sense of smell had heightened with her pregnancy.

"Who are you watching?" he whispered as he watched the retreating pair with interest. His question was answered when the female stopped to smack the other on the chest and gave out a high pitched giggle. "Watch it bucko or you'll be sleeping alone tonight!" she laughed and was picked up by the man for a passionate kiss. "Ashley," John rasped in shock. This was a side of his take no prisoners daughter he had not witnessed before. He felt rooted to the spot, unable to move, as the lovebirds walked away and slowly became dots in the distance. He was unprepared for how much she looked and sounded like a younger version of her mother.

"Were they in love?" he inquired softly as he shook himself from his stupor. "I had no idea she had a beau when we first met."

"It appears that way," she softly replied. "And she didn't when you met. Alex is killed in a car accident along the coast of Australia on a filming trip in three months time. She was rather upset about it but I don't know that he was the love of her life." She didn't know if that person had yet entered her daughter's life and felt like kicking herself for that. She was Ashley's mother. She should have known.

The idea of his daughter romantically involved with someone was such a foreign concept to him. Still, she appeared to be happy with this young man. John sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"He was a nice young man," Helen added, looking up at him for the first time.

Noticing the tear stains on her face he raised both hands to her cheek and gently wiped at them. "I'm sorry," he whispered again.

A long moment passed before the sound of James's mechanical braces could be heard coming around the east side of the building. He, too, had been observing the young lovers and was also struck by how much she favored her mother. He eyed the pair in Victorian dress that emerged from the dark at the other end of the 12 foot long structure as he walked towards them. It was next to impossible to sneak up on anyone these days with his motorized walking braces he thought in annoyance.

They met halfway at the mausoleum's doorway. James was dressed in a proper English riding uniform with tan riding pants that blended in with the straps of his braces. Helen gave him a wistful smile. She had known that his physical state would have deteriorated next time they met but it still didn't take away her sorrow at finding him that way. Never mind, they would fix that eventually. "James," she greeted, extending her hand for him to take into his warm grasp.

"Helen," he returned, noticing immediately that she still looked as young as ever and that her baby bulge was very obvious. His eyes followed hers as she turned once again to watch the young couple finally disappear around the corner of the pool house. "Forgive me for broaching a delicate subject but how many years until the death?" he softly asked, wanting to know how much time they would have to prepare for their rescuing of his godchild.

Helen, mistaking his question for his own death, sighed and fixed him with a sad look. "Five years to your death. Or what the world will believe is your death."

He shook his head. "I remember your telling John all those years ago that you wanted to return five years before my death. What about Ashley's?"

Her eyes took on a steely glint. "Five years," she repeated.

James blinked, not expecting that answer. "Our deaths are in the same year?"

"Less than three months apart. As is Clara Griffin's."

He straightened his spine. Three lives that needed to be saved in a short span of time. "Then we better get to work."


	43. Cravings

Chapter 43: Cravings

Every part of her body had been pounded mellow by the three powerful shower heads striking her body simultaneously. Oh how she had missed the comfort of modern facilities. The lingering steam in the bathroom as she dried herself caused her long hair to curl up tighter. Wiping away the moisture on the tall mirror, she leaned forward to stare at her reflection. Her roots were turning blonde again and contrasted with the bulk of her dark, reddish brown hair. She frowned and bit the bottom of her lip. Something was going to have to do be done about this. She might be getting as big as a house but there was no excuse for letting her looks go along with her waistline. The grocery store hair dyes always carried warnings about coloring one's hair when pregnant but women had been dying their hair for centuries and as long as it was a one-time event done in a well ventilated room it would be fine. So, add hair dye to the long shopping list of required necessities she thought. Shopping, now that was a cheerful thought she smiled to herself as she towel dried her messy locks and then combed it free. Peering at herself once again in the mirror, she took in the large, sapphire orbs staring back at her from darkened sockets. She needed sleep, something she had not gotten much of over the last three days while she had been so consumed with worry over crossing back through the time portal.

Pulling on the soft, dark navy wool robe and making sure it was securely tied about her person, Helen took a deep breath and exited the bathroom. Hopefully the robe would stay in place because she had nothing on underneath save her knickers. She wasn't about to put that heavy plum dress back on just to go to bed. And there was no way she could fit into any of James' clothing given her current physical state. Finding the bedroom empty, she wandered out down the hall and took in the clean, modern lines and furniture of Watson's Edinburgh flat, which resided on the top floor of an old converted warehouse. He had told them when they arrived that he'd decided against the location she had originally suggested after realizing how many cameras were in the area and the amount of foot traffic nearby. The area his converted flat was located was quieter at night and more industrial, thus making it more private for their coming and goings.

Coming out into the open living area with its tall ceilings, Helen found the two men seated in wide, dark leather club chairs by a gas fireplace and thoughtfully engaged in a game of chess. Judging from the frown on John's face as he stared down at the board and the barely noticeable upward turn of James' mouth there was little doubt who was winning the match.

Both looked up as she padded near. The wooden floors were obviously heated for her bare feet did not take on a chill as she moved across the room. "Feeling better?" John asked as he moved one of his pieces to take his opponent's on the board.

She sank down onto the nearby couch and stretched her long legs over the matching ottoman, making sure to keep her robe primly covering as much of her as possible. It was one thing to flash John with naked flesh. It was quite another to flash James while in the presence of her possessive lover. "I feel human again," she purred. "I never thought I'd miss modern plumbing as much as I do."

James, who had been silently observing her, gave a sympathetic nod. "Make yourself at home. The place is fully stocked and at your disposal. Might I be so bold as to suggest a good night's sleep? You look quite spent."

Giving him a soft, feline smile, she came back with, "Actually, you know what I could use right now?" and turned her head to stare in the direction of the open kitchen. What are the odds she thought?

"What?" John replied first, still frowning down at the board after James had knocked off his knight.

"Strawberry ice cream?" James asked with a raise of his eyebrow, garnering him a wider smile from the pregnant woman.

"Strawberry ice cream?" John repeated in surprise, looking up to catch the two smiling knowingly at one another.

"It's one of the things I craved when I was pregnant with Ashley. Strawberry ice cream and McDonald's French fries. Who knew I'd have such atrocious peasant taste in my expectant state," Helen admitted with a little laugh. "I don't suppose you'd have any here?" she asked James hopefully. This was the first true craving she'd experienced so far and, if this little one was anything like its older sibling, John was in for quite a time running back and forth delivering her whatever the baby was craving. Her household had assigned themselves shifts in order to cover her many cravings when she had carried Ashley.

James sniffed lightly. "The ice cream, yes. The fries, no. There is a McDonald's two blocks over but he will have to put some pants on to fetch them," he motioned towards Druitt, "I think the clerks will frown upon him showing up in just a robe. They might get the idea that he's some sort of flasher."

"Do you want fries?" John asked seriously as he watched her quickly make her way over to the fridge and let out a happy squeal at finding a tub of Napoleon ice cream in the fridge.

"The bowls are in the cabinet left to the sink and the spoons and ice cream scoop are in the center drawers of the island," James called out. Using Druitt's distraction, he reached over and captured his opponent's queen before leaning back with a smirk. He was one move away from winning. "I'll take a bowl of chocolate, please," he ordered in early celebration of his upcoming victory. It had been a century since he'd kicked John's butt in a chess match.

Helen gave a loud snort as she scooped out the strawberry flavor for herself. "And what makes you think I'm going to share? I'm pregnant, remember?"

"I remember," he volleyed back. "Which is why I know you won't want the chocolate."

The knowledge that Watson knew what she craved while pregnant annoyed Druitt. His missing out on that part of her life would always be a sore nerve with him. "Do you want fries?" John asked again, rising from his seat.

She waved the scoop in the air in a "no" motion. "The ice cream is fine." She paused. "You wouldn't happen to have any crisps?"

"Crisps?" John repeated incredulously. "With strawberry ice cream? That's disgusting." The combination sounded worse than fries and ice cream. He noticed then that Watson had taken his piece and frowned at his opponent. Shoulders slumping, he moved his final piece to its inevitable doom.

"In the cabinet right of the fridge," James told her. To John, he cheerfully replied, "Ice cream and crisps are nothing," as he swiftly moved to capture the last standing white piece with a triumphant bang on the board. "Wait till she gets to the sixth and seventh months. If she craves even half of what she did the first time you're in for quite a treat, old boy."

Startled, John pivoted back to look at her. "Really?"

The other two laughed. "I don't know if it's because of the trace amount of vampire blood in me or if I just naturally have a voracious metabolism while pregnant," she confessed as she finished scooping her ice cream and began putting the chocolate into a bowl for James. He was right. For some reason she was not fond of chocolate in the later phase of her pregnancies. Instead she tended to crave fruit flavors and salt. "But I do tend to eat like there's no tomorrow in the last trimester of my pregnancy. It appears if this one will be the same as the last time."

John eyed her as if she might blow up like a balloon at any moment as she grabbed a bag of crisps from the cabinet, opened it and slathered some ice cream onto a chip before popping it into her mouth. He knew women had cravings when pregnant but as his experience with the condition was practically non-existent he had little idea what to expect. He just knew that whatever she wanted he would make sure she got. His mouth dropped open a bit as he watched her crush some of the crisps in her hand and sprinkle them on top of her ice cream, then wash her hand and dry it with a towel.

She paused and flashed the father of her child a dimple. "Want some ice cream? Not the strawberry, of course. That's mine," she laughed.

Languidly strolling up to island, he rested his elbows on its curved edge and leaned forward. "What if I do want some strawberry?" he impishly inquired as he watched her scoop out the rest of the ice cream, which was vanilla, into the third bowl.

"What is Golden Rule #3?" she reminded him as she passed him the bowl of vanilla and then walked away with the other two bowls. She could feel his dark figure follow behind and quietly laughed as she pictured the frown on his face. Vanilla was not his favorite flavor.

"Golden Rule #3?" James inquired as he accepted the bowl of chocolate from Helen, who then curled up on the couch and began to savor her treat. "So good," she purred, causing James to chuckle.

John slumped down next to her on the couch, his displeasure at his flavor evident. He considered swapping bowls with Watson, who obviously had the same thought and immediately dug into his bowl as a deterrent. "How is it he doesn't know the three Golden Rules pertaining to pregnant women," John asked sarcastically as he reluctantly began eating his dessert. "I thought all men were supposed to know those."

Tucking her feet underneath her, Helen smugly retorted, "He has always practiced Golden Rule #1, unlike some people I know, and therefore did not need to know the rest because as you know #1 trumps #2 and 3."

John rolled his eyes. "Of course he has. Goody two shoes."

"If that snarky comment is in reference to me, I can assure you that I am both _very_ good… and I wear two shoes," James replied smartly as he pointed his spoon in John's direction. His humorous reply made Helen giggle and even John could not suppress the little laugh that escaped his lips. "And I ask again, what is this golden rule?"

Scooping a large helping into her mouth, Helen stared at John with an amused look, as if to question whether he remembered it.

Sighing, John took another bite of his unfortunate choice of dessert and repeated in a monotone, "Golden Rule #3 is that nothing stands between a pregnant woman and her next meal. Golden Rule #2 is that the pregnant woman is always right. And Golden Rule #1 is that what the pregnant woman wants, she gets." He gave her a proud look at the fact that he had remembered what she had said to him word for word.

Watson finished off his dessert and laid the spoon down into his bowl with a metallic clang. "I never thought I'd say this," he said, looking directly at John, "But you, my good sir, are _whipped_."

"What?!" John croaked, glaring at Watson while Helen began choking on her ice cream.

"You are," James teased as he laid his bowl down on the table next to him. "You're totally whipped."

"I am not!" John argued and narrowed his eyes at his best friend. Beside him, Helen continued to cough as she tried to clear her throat. They were still overgrown juveniles. She shook her head at John to signify that she didn't believe he was whipped but the choking bursts of laughter mixed with her coughs sort of cancelled out her denials. "Are you alright?" he worriedly asked as her face flushed.

"Uh huh," she gasped, swiping at her tearing eyes. "Fine."

Sighing, John suggested they retire for the evening. "It's been a long day," he muttered tiredly, suddenly feeling every ach in his body, "and the floors are starting to feel like their moving the way it does when your body is roaring at you to go to bed."

Helen laid her sleepy head on his shoulder and murmured in agreement. "Sleep sounds lovely. Lots to do tomorrow."

"There's plenty of time to relocate to the safe house," he advised as he kissed the crown of her head. "Let's take a few days to relax and enjoy being back in present time."

"I know. That's not what I was talking about. There are more pressing concerns."

"Such as?" He and James both asked at the same time.

"Sonogram," she said with a yawn. "I need to check on the baby's growth and make sure everything's okay." Feeling John's body go rigid, she patted his thigh. "I'm sure everything's fine but I would feel better with a checkup. Normally a woman would have had several baby wellness checkups by now. I just need to know all the bits are where they're supposed to be." She yawned again and forced herself to stand up. Both men slowly rose as well as all were ready to retire to their bedrooms. "And of course there's all the shopping to do," Helen added. "Lots and lots of shopping." She gave a wide, Cheshire smile at that.

"Shopping," James snorted. "I'm sure John will be quite efficient at holding your purse while you buy the stores out," he teased, grinning as John turned to glare at him again.

"I'm tired. I'm grumpy. And I can still drop you off the Tower of London," John emptily threatened with a yawn.

"But you won't," James drawled lazily. "Good night, Helen," he said and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Sleep well."

"You too," she murmured back.

Turning away to walk to his bedroom, which was at the opposite side of the flat, Watson called, "Goodnight, Grumpy Pants," to which John answered back, "Goodnight, Snoopy Pants. Try not to trip over that enormous ego of yours while climbing into bed, Sherlock." He chortled as James shot him a bird over his shoulder before entering his room and shutting the door behind him.

"Juveniles. I am surrounded by juveniles," Helen muttered with a shake of her head as she continued on to her bedroom. When her father had dubbed the male members of The Five as "her boys" he had no idea how accurate that description would prove to be. A century later and those surviving members were still overgrown boys at heart.


	44. Pink Fluff and Baby Blues Part 1

Chapter 44: Pink Fluff and Baby Blues Part 1

He shifted his long legs in his chair to ease the pain in his backside. At well over 6 feet tall, his sinewy frame did not fit the compact, modern chairs of the receiving room within which he was impatiently waiting. Imprisoned was more like it he thought bitterly. The wider, plush seats were all occupied by those who needed them more. Around him the room bustled with activity. Mothers attempted to keep their little ones occupied as they awaited their turns to visit the doctor while a few very pregnant ones chattered among themselves about how many weeks along they were, what colors they were going to decorate their nurseries, and how useless their husbands were while they suffered through morning sickness.

Several times glances turned his way as the others in the room wondered why this imposing, uncomfortable man was seated alone. At one point, a brave little boy who was probably no more than 5 came up to him and asked, "Are you going to have a baby, mister?" The ridiculous question, one only a young child could come up with, caused him to laugh aloud and finally start to relax. He assured the boy that no, he was not having a baby, but his partner was and he was waiting for her, which seemed to come as a relief to the other adults in the room. Apparently they found him to be somewhat intimidating, though why he wasn't sure. It wasn't as if he was trying to be menacing or even leering at them. Perhaps it was his watching of the children as a lone man. Ever since Helen had confirmed that she was expecting their second child, the sight of small children was a different experience for him. He now found them to be fascinating subjects as he pondered what the newest Druitt would be like. Would she be a little sharp tongued fireball like her older sister? Or would he be a soft spoken scholar with a passion for poetry like his father once had before the energy elemental had destroyed his life? The possibilities were endless.

Bored with the choice of limited toys, the nosy child came to stand back before him. "Are you going to have a boy or a girl?" he asked with an interested tilt of his brown head.

"I don't know," John answered truthfully, amused by the child's boldness. "I'm waiting for the doctor to call me in her office to find out. Why?"

"Because boys are better than girls," the lad replied. "They like balls and cars and playing in the mud. Girls are boring."

Putting his hands on his knees, he leaned forward to look the child in the eye. "I don't know that the term boring would ever apply to any daughter of mine. She would be too much like her mother."

"All girls are boring," the boy insisted. "I have older two sisters," he added as proof. "All they do is worry about their clothes and talk to their friends. They don't even know how to play Power Rangers!"

"Playing ninja wouldn't be too much of a stretch for my daughter," John laughed, thinking of Ashley. "And does your father share your sentiment of girls?"

"His father isn't in the picture," the boy's mother interjected, "We haven't seen the deadbeat in three years." The tight line of her mouth gave testament to the anger she still felt towards the boy's absent father.

"Oh," John stuttered as he observed the boy's crestfallen face upon hearing his mother's harsh words, "I'm sorry." His thoughts flew back to Ashley, who had also grown up without a father, and depressingly he wondered if she ever thought of him as a deadbeat dad while growing up. If she ever thought of him at all. It had been clear from their conversation in his storage facility that she had no clue who her father had been. Helen had done such a good job being both mother and father to the girl that Ashley didn't appear to care that she was missing a parent.

The awkward silence that ensued was broken when a woman entered the room and called his name. Relieved, he bounded up from his seat so quickly that he knocked over the stack of magazines on the table next to him. As he bent over to collect the pile and place it back on the table he heard the boy say "Butterfingers!" and Lucy give a giggle. Standing back upright, he walked toward her feeling his pulse quickening and his mouth go dry. Everything had to be okay. It just had to. The alternative was unacceptable.

Lucy Cutter was a petite, slim figure of a girl who was in her earjy-20s. Her strawberry blonde hair hung in curls around her shoulders and her light green eyes seemed to glow in her pale face. A few freckles were sprinkled on her perky little nose. She was the model image of a pretty Irish maiden though one would have to listen carefully to catch her faint Irish accent. Noticing the tension in his face, she flashed him a smile. "She's fine. She just thought you might want to get in on the action," she explained as she led him back into the examination room.

"Action?" John repeated, not at all sure what she was talking about.

"The sonogram," she answered before opening the door to usher him in and shut the door behind him. As she strolled away she laughed to herself. The big, soft spoken man turned into a flustering mess over his partner's baby checkup. Who would have thought?

Back in the room, John stood stock still by the doorway staring at the sight before him. Helen was lying on the examination table with her arms resting up by her head. Her blouse was pushed up to the bottom of her breasts and her bulging stomach was exposed. Their eyes meet and her right hand slowly slid down to her side and reached out for him.

"Are you ready to see your baby, daddy to be?" the doctor cheerfully asked as she prepared to conduct the sonogram. "If so, we can get this show on the road."

Snapping out of his stupor, John lurched forward to take Helen's offered hand and took a seat on the stool next to the bed. "Everything's alright?" he asked nervously. He immediately dismissed his annoyance at being sent out of the room earlier for the first part of the examination, despite the fact that he knew it had to be done.

Lucy had concocted a story for the visit to a local family doctor who was a friend of hers which she, Helen and James felt would not raise any red flags with the unsuspecting doctor and her staff. The story was that Helen had taken a fall while strolling around the grounds of Lucy's family country home and wanted to get a sonogram to make sure the baby was fine. John's large size and the fact that many women's so-called "falls" were due to abusive fathers would no doubt cause the doctor to want to privately chat with Helen away from her lover to ensure that the fall had been a legitimate one. Helen wanted only the sonogram but would allow further examination as long as it did not involve any blood work, which would have definitely set off red flags. She played her part well, convincing the doctor that she had been regularly visiting with her family doctor for her baby wellness exams and that the "fall" had been an unfortunate misstep on her clumsy part. It was getting harder to see her feet Helen had laughed in earnest and was relieved by the doctor's comment that she heard that a lot from women in their final trimester. The only hurdle left to cross was the sonogram itself.

Giving John a small smile, Helen nodded. "So far so good." She had been fine through the whole examination but now that the actual viewing was upon them she felt her nerves suddenly take hold. She hadn't realized her hand was shaking until she felt John grasp it firmly in his large hand and give her a loving squeeze.

"Everything's going to be fine," he proclaimed to give her encouragement. He knew she was worried that something might have gone wrong with the fetus due to Franco's poisonous bite or their teleporting around or their walking through the time portal… or a combination of all of the above. That the fetus would not have been affected by any or all of these factors would be nothing short of a miracle.

"Yes," she started to answer then gasped loudly as the doctor spread the cold gel onto her stomach.

"Are you alri…" John began and was cut off with a muttering of "Cold" by Helen with a chatter of her teeth.

Dr. Lindstrom ignored the frown the baby's father threw her way and proceeded to run the wand over her patient's pale belly. Immediately a swooshing sound filled the room and she had to chuckle as the big man's head jerked straight up and his eyes turned to stare to the screen.

"Is that the baby's heartbeat?" he asked in awe.

"It is," both the doctor and Helen said simultaneously.

"Is it supposed to be that fast?"

"Yes," both women answered at the same time. At the doctor's reproachful stare Helen sheepishly apologized. "Sorry, force of habit."

"Well, Doctor Heatherington," Dr. Lindstrom said in good humor as she moved the wand around and peered at the screen, "you are currently a patient. My patient. And if you would be so good as to allow me to finish my examination before you conclude your self examination we can determine the baby's status."

"Of course, doctor," Helen answered, appropriately chastised. She promptly pushed aside the doctor's chiding as she became engrossed on watching the screen. There, her baby's form was visible in black and white.

"Everything looks to be in order," Dr. Lindstrom concluded as she did a final swipe over Helen's stomach. "The baby is around 23 to 24 weeks old, as you had said, and healthy."

"All the bits are in order then," Helen surmised in relief and felt John lift their clasped hands to his lips to bestow a warm kiss. Turning, she gave him a sweet smile.

"Do you want to know the baby's sex or have you already figured that out," Dr. Lindstrom inquired as she turned to face the couple. This was her favorite part of the sonogram. She loved to break the news to expectant parents on whether the baby was a girl or a boy. Most of the time the parents reactions were jubilation no matter what the outcome, but every once in a while she got some parents who were plainly disappointed upon hearing the news. Those particular parents she wanted to crack their skulls together and remind them that they were blessed enough to be having a miracle granted to them. She hadn't yet decided which reaction she was going to get from this enigmatic couple who had both stiffly refuted they were married when she first began questioning them on the falling incident. Obviously she had hit a nerve there with that standard question.

"Do we want to know the sex of the baby?" John repeated as he continued to stare at the screen. On it, his child was curled up in a fetal position and appeared to be sucking its thumb. He had no idea it could do that in the womb and a big, goofy grin spread across his face at the wondrous sight. When Helen didn't immediately reply, he turned back to look at her. "You already know, don't you?" he guessed.

"I…" she started to lie then stopped and gave him a wistful smile. "Does it really matter?" she softly asked as she stared into his face and tried to read his thoughts. Was he going to want a male heir like all macho men wanted or would he be satisfied with another female heir? They had spoken many times of the large family they had wanted in their youth when they had first fallen in love, but that had been a long time ago.

"No," he replied firmly. "It doesn't matter… but I would like to know since you already do. It would only be fair."

Helen turned to face the doctor and raised an eyebrow at her to signal her to go ahead. Pleased, Dr. Lindstrom smiled and said, "I foresee a lot of pink fluff in your future, Mr. Griffin."

"Pink fluff?" John repeated and looked back at Helen. "A girl. We're having another daughter." At Helen's guarded nod, he leaned forward and kissed her passionately on the lips. "Another daughter," he said breathlessly as he leaned back. "Hopefully this one will refrain from referring to me as 'dude'," he joked and was rewarded with a giggle from the mother of his child. "I really hate it when she calls me 'dude.'" It didn't need to be stated that the she in question was Ashley.

"You have another child together?" Dr. Lindstrom asked in surprise as she wiped off the gel from Helen's stomach. "I just assumed someone else had been the father when you told me you had an older child from a previous relationship."

"I am the previous relationship and the proud father," John boasted, earning him more giggles from the giddy mother of his child. His head was fairly swimming with the many possibilities at the idea of the little girl on her way. Another daughter. He was finally going to get to experience everything he had missed from Ashley's childhood.

"And yet you aren't married," the elderly doctor stated matter of factly.

"Nope," the couple answered in sharp unison. The topic of marriage was a sore nerve between the two. Best to avoid it at all costs.

"Okay. Just checking," the doctor said as she held up her hands. She had made her suggestion, blatant though it was, and was now washing her hands of the whole thing. People were so reckless about marriage and doing things in the right order nowadays she thought grumpily. You'd have thought this couple here, who appeared to be in their late 30s, would pull their act together for the sake of their children. Going to the nearby printer, she pulled out the three printouts she had made and turned back to the find the pair staring into one another's eyes like a couple of young, silly school kids. "They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Here's three to get you started."

"There's pictures?" John exclaimed happily and took them from her to stare at each one in turn.

"He's cute, in a goofy, Great Dane kind of way," Dr. Lindstrom joked as she watched the big man examine the print outs with a wide, goofy smile plastered across his broad face. "I hope he's housebroken."

"He isn't," Helen retorted and laughed as the butt of their joke tapped her on the nose with a long finger.

"That sentiment would apply to most of your household," he reminded her. "I happen to be the cutest of that lot. Certainly the least furry and fanged."

"You are," she concurred, giving him a kiss on the lips.

"You've a lot of animals in your household?" the doctor absently asked as she finished putting away all the equipment. Anyone who was a big animal lover was okay in her book, even this stubborn pair.

"You have no idea how many," John quipped with a smirk. "Every shape and size you can imagine." Rolling her eyes at him, Helen pulled her shirt back over her rounded belly. It was her sole blouse but she would soon take care of that. James had procured a change of clothing for them both but they were in serious need of a larger wardrobe and that was next on her to do list.

Out in the hallway, the pair found Lucy chatting up one of the nurses as she waited for them. Seeing the smiles on the expectant pair's faces, she returned their happy greeting. "Well then, what's the plan? Pop back to the ranch for an early tea and a nap? Or have a little fun and buy out the mall?" she suggested with a wicked little turn of her bow of a mouth. The widening smile on Helen's face was answer enough.

To Dr. Lindstrom, who had come out behind the pair, she called out, "Lunch, next week? My treat?"

"Absolutely," the older lady called back. She had shifted her entire morning schedule to fit the unscheduled examination into her already packed day and deserved a reward for her efforts. "Make it Friday at one. We can have double margaritas at Don Pedro's since the clinic closes early that day." She gave John a firm smack on the shoulder as she turned to walk away. "Try not to trip on your way out the door staring at those sonograms, big boy," she sassily said in parting as she moved on to her next patient. Helen laughed. She did rather like this bossy old broad.

"So then," Lucy said as the trio walked out to the waiting room to leave the building, "off to the mall? The one nearest here is rubbish. The best one is about 20 minutes south."

"Absolutely," Helen answered back as she rubbed her hands together. Shopping, wahoo! She had been waiting years to go on a proper shopping spree again. Outside the building, she turned to her partner and said, "Meet you back at the compound in a few hours?"

Frowning, he responded with, "What? I don't think so. I'm coming with you."

It was her turn frown. "You want to go shopping? Shopping! It's hardly your thing."

"It is where you and our daughter are concerned," he retorted and wrapped a big arm around her shoulder as he moved them forward toward the car Lucy had unlocked. "I'm missing nothing of our little one's childhood. That includes buying her first jumpers." He laughed at the comical, stricken look on Helen's face. Obviously she had not been expecting this response from him. Tucking her into the car, he leaned forward to say, "Off to the mall then, Jeeves," to the grinning girl seated behind the wheel.

"To the mall," Lucy repeated and steered them expertly away. This should be an interesting experience she thought to herself with a soft giggle. It would be like taking Padfoot and Bellatrix to the mall for shopping. Hopefully no one would be caught in the crosshairs of their dueling wands.


	45. Pink Fluff and Baby Blues Part 2

Chapter 45: Pink Fluff and Baby Blues Part 2

Helen's annoyance with John tagging along evaporated as soon as they entered the enormous shopping center and glass window after glass window chock full of merchandise greeted her. She missed many things about the modern world and shopping was high on that list. A big smile lit up her face as she stared up the three story interior of the mall. So many shops to explore. Turning to Lucy, she said, "You don't have to babysit us, you know. We can make our way back to the house."

The girl tossed her strawberry blonde curls and smirked. "I have been ordered to chauffeur you to and from the ranch. James said under no circumstances am I to allow you to drive because, and I quote," she said as she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers, "you drive like a reckless bat out of hell and should not be behind the wheel in your current condition."

Helen sniffed indignantly. "I do not!" she denied. "I am a perfectly excellent driver and am always in control. James is just sulking over the time I made him scream like a little girl as we were racing away from smugglers. They were shooting at us. I had to drive fast and we did get away unscathed."

John snorted. "Like a little girl?" At the smirk on Helen's face, he grinned. "Let me guess. They were shooting at you because you helped yourselves to something that did not belong to you?"

"Liberated," she corrected. "We rescued some poor, rare creatures that were on their way to becoming aphrodisiac powders and snacks. It was a good thing."

"He also said you've crashed several helicopters and private planes," Lucy added, highly amused at the annoyance that flashed in the older woman's eyes. "That you have an inherent need for speed."

"What girl doesn't?" Helen shot back at the girl, this time with a little upturn of the corner of her mouth. "Why should men have all the fun?"

"You'll get no argument from me on that point," Lucy said, thinking of her overprotective big brother who fussed if she drove over 60 miles an hour, even if it was the speed limit, while he drove like a race car driver.

John raised an eyebrow at her as he absorbed that little tidbit. "Our daughter came by her reckless nature naturally I see."

Helen rolled her eyes at him. "You're not exactly Johnny cautious either. I think it more accurate that her recklessness came from you."

Leaning in to whisper in her ear, John chuckled. "Right. Because I was the one who came up with the idea to inject ourselves with untested vampire blood. Oh, wait. I believe that was you, oh reckless one." He received a glare in response.

"James also mentioned you've never driven an automobile before," the girl said to him. "Is that really true?"

"Eh, never felt the need. It would be going backwards to caveman times for me," John smugly informed her.

Helen said apologetically, "I may be a several hours. Wouldn't you rather do something else than follow us around the mall?"

Lucy waved a hand before her. "Oh I intend to. One of the branch libraries is two blocks over and I'm going to help out a colleague with the children's story book hour. We're going to make turkeys out of hand silhouettes after the reading and then Sally and I will head over to a nearby bistro for a late lunch. I'll be busy for several hours." She dug out the car keys and handed them to her. "Here's the key in case you want to load up the packages into the car. Just keep in mind that if you overfill the car with packages I won't be the one riding on the roof because I'm the designated driver," she cheekily exclaimed.

"We'll keep that in mind," John answered as he smiled back at the girl. Her perky and smart personality was contagious and he found himself liking her more and more as he slowly got to know her.

She gave a little wave goodbye as she set out for the exit. "Have fun and try not to hurt anyone during your wand exchanges, Bellatrix and Padfoot," she called over her shoulder.

"Who?" John frowned.

Helen laughed as she walked toward the kiosk sign that listed all the shops available. "They're characters in the Harry Potter books. Both rather naughty and not be to messed with… also a bit mad."

"So basically us," he teased as he came up beside her.

"They were mortal enemies," she explained as her eyes scanned the names on the lit up board.

"So not us," he corrected as his eyes zeroed in on the shop names that sounded like they dealt with maternity clothes and children's stuff.

"I would hope not," she answered as she turned to smile at him. "Because you'd be Bellatrix, who was a woman, if that were the case. And," she teased as her fingers played with the top buttons of his shirt, "according to James you do make a most homely figure when dressed in women's clothing."

John reared back with a clenched jaw. "He swore he'd never tell anyone about that if I helped him that one time. I'll kill the little weasel," he growled. "And who is he calling homely. You should have seen him in that peach number."

"I have," she laughed as she moved away to head to the first stop on her mental list. "That was my peach gown and I'll have you know I looked lovely in it. James… not so much."

She felt him fall in step beside her. "So, what's first up? A nice shoe shop? I know how much you love your shoes."

"I do," she agreed as she came to a stop before a shop. "But first things first," she explained as she entered the salon. "I need a haircut."

"How much of a cut?" he asked with a frown. Her hair was waist length, as it had been when they were younger and he had grown accustomed to it.

She leveled a look at him before acknowledging the hair stylist in front of her and telling him what she wanted. "Never mind the roots," she told him as he insisted that he could not dye her hair due to her pregnant state. "Just cut it past the shoulder and trim the bangs."

"And what about him?" Christophe asked as he scrutinized her tall companion, who was much more to his taste. "He could do with a trim of the hair and beard." Tilting his head, he suggested, "Or perhaps a buzz cut? Or why not be adventurous and shave the head to bring out your eyes and bone structure?"

"No shaved head!" Helen and John blurted out abruptly in unison. They stared at one another. "A hair cut and thinning of the beard will be fine," John commanded. He rejected the suggestion of dying his beard which had a light sprinkling of gray intertwined. "I have earned every gray hair," he stated.

"I like the little bit of gray," Helen agreed as she reached up and lightly scratched his beard with her nails. "I think it's quite distinguished." John leaned into her touch and stared at her adoringly, causing Christophe to roll his eyes at the pair. Clapping his hands to get their attention, he then ushered them to nearby chairs and motioned for his assistant to attend to Helen while he took charge of the handsome man.

Half an hour later, John sat in his chair staring at the mother of his future offspring as she peered at her reflection in the mirror. The shortened length of her hair caused her natural curls to form tighter ringlets and she sighed as she reveled in the feeling of lightness that came with her new haircut. In the mirror she caught sight of John's downturned mouth and said, "You'll get used to it again."

"I suppose I will," he grudgingly answered as he unfolded his long form from the chair to come stand by her. One of his fingers twirled a long curl around. He had always loved her soft, beautiful hair. The first time she had allowed him to run his fingers through it intimately as they began their private courtship he thought he had died and gone to heaven. And for him she was the closest embodiment to heaven… and hell at times.

"I like your beard trimmed thinner," she complimented him as she stroked his bare cheek before she held out her hand. "Help me up," she demanded. Not only was it getting harder to see her feet but she was getting to the stage where it was getting more difficult to get out of chairs without help. He carefully helped her maneuver out of the chair and together they went to the checkout counter. At Christophe's obvious surprise at Helen paying for both services, John cracked, "She's my Mrs. Robinson," and smirked at her as she turned to glare at him.

"Don't start that again," she warned. "I am only a year older than you."

"Yes," he winked at her as he turned to walk out of the store, "You are."

"Sometimes I hate you," she grumbled under her breath, which was just loud enough for the hairdresser to overhear.

"Men can be bitches," Christophe nodded as he happily tucked his tip into his pocket. "You've been a couple for a while I take it?"

"Longer than you could possibly guess," she said in parting as she exited the store.

Their next stop was for cookies and lemonade. "Doesn't the sweet of the cookie and the tart of the lemonade cancel each other out?" he asked as he took a bite of his treat as they strolled toward the escalator.

"The baby thinks it's just fine together," she grinned as she finished off the peanut butter chocolate chip and started on the oatmeal one. She paused thoughtfully. "Could use a pickle," she added and laughed at the grimace on his face. "Hey, I'm pregnant!" she reminded him. "Food takes on a whole new level of flavors and combinations with each craving."

"Did you crave anything in particular when you were carrying Ashley?" he inquired with a sidelong glance. He knew very little of his firstborn's childhood and his curiosity grew along with Helen's stomach.

"Caramel popcorn, McDonald's French fries and avocados," she shared as her eyes got a faraway look to them. "Not all together of course."

"Thank goodness for that," he retorted and they laughed. "Oh, and my Old Friend's homemade macaroni and cheese with bits of lobster. You're not supposed to eat seafood when pregnant but I craved lobster so much in the last two months that he gave in and put small bits in the mac and cheese." She sighed. "I do miss his cooking… and him."

Putting his arm around her, he assured her that she would see her team again. "Think of how much fun it will be to introduce them to our newest little one."

She smiled as she sipped her lemonade. "He'll be thrilled," she said, thinking warmly of her Old Friend. "He loves children and doted on Ashley and Henry when they were little. A bit too much. They had him wrapped around their little fingers and ran to him whenever they were about to be grounded or sent to their room."

The idea of the big, hairy Sasquatch being the children's nanny of sorts and champion struck him as ironic. Any other children would have found the creature a terrifying sight. But then Ashley and Mr. Foss were not your average children. They stepped carefully onto the escalator, with him standing solidly behind her in case she should to lose her footing, and rode up to the next level. He had no idea where they were going but it was obvious she had an itinerary planned out for this shopping trip.

Their next stop was a clothing store for tall and big men. Both of them had exactly one change of modern clothing and the mission of this trip as far as she was concerned was to round out their wardrobes. As he wandered about selecting pants, shirts and a few sweaters, she sat on a bench near the glass window and stared out at the people outside. Across from the store, in the center of the wide walkway, was a merry-go-round upon which four small children rode as their parents fluttered nearby and feed coins into the machine whenever it stopped. One little girl captured her rapt attention. She couldn't have been more than four and had bright blue eyes with long straight hair. She was riding a seahorse and waving happily to her mother standing nearby. The familial scene before her faded out of her vision as Helen became lost in memories of Ashley as a young girl. Her daughter had fallen in love with a particular white carousel horse with blue ribbons in its mane at a nearby mall when she was three years old and had cried pitifully to take it home with them each time she was made to leave it. Ashley had loved "Snowy" so much so that Helen had finally located a duplicate of the small merry-go-round ride and purchased it for the girl's fourth birthday. Her shrieks of delight when she discovered it had made it all worthwhile, though Helen did almost regret the purchase the first night when the child had snuck downstairs to sleep on the horse and had ended up falling off and receiving a large goose egg of a bruise on her forehead. That carousel was still in the basement of the Sanctuary somewhere and could be made operational again. "Mummy will have it fixed back up for you when we return home, my darling," Helen thought as she stroked her stomach. "You'll love it as much as your big sister."

Feeling a hand caress her face, Helen looked up to find John standing over her with a worried look on his face. One of his large hands was weighed down with bags of clothing and two more rested against his leg waiting to be picked up. "Helen," he called again. "Are you alright?" he asked as looked out the window to see what she had been staring at blankly.

She blinked the cobwebs of her memories away. "Yes. Sorry. Just thinking." She held her hand out to him and allowed him to help her up.

"About our newest offspring or the first one?" he knowingly inquired. He was pretty sure it was Ashley she had been lost in thought about.

"Both," she answered with a wistful smile. "And, now that you're sorted out, it's my turn," she cheerfully stated and led the way down the walkway, away from the happy cries of the children on their mechanical rides.

Outside an upscale maternity store called The Princess and the Pea she stopped and pulled the car keys out of her pocket. Handing them to him, she requested that he go put his bags in the car as she planned to do quite a bit of shopping. He silently nodded as he took the keys and left while she entered the store. Politely declining the clerk's offer of assistance, Helen went straight to the undergarments section and picked through the colorful selection of bras and lacy undergarments. Holding one bra up she tried to judge whether it would give her enough room to grow a little as she was unsure of exactly what size she needed since it was obvious that she was already larger with this pregnancy than her last one. Deciding she was just going to have to try several on to get the correct size, she was about to turn to ask for the dressing room when a familiar male voice said in her ear "Why does it have a zipper?" which caused her to jump and drop the bra she had been holding.

"John," she gasped breathless as her hand went to cover her racing heart. "I thought you were going to the car," she asked before starting to bend over to retrieve the piece of clothing off the floor.

"I did," he replied as he quickly bent over and picked up the article of clothing. At her questioning look, he merely smirked back at her to imply that he'd teleported to and back from the car within 5 minutes. Any cameras in the mall focused on him would have caught him walking into the men's room with numerous bags and minutes later walking back out empty handed. Holding the turquoise colored bra with satin trim up to the light he inquired again, "Why does it have this small zipper?"

"It's for access when breastfeeding," she replied as she grabbed it from his hand. "Sometimes there's a zipper and other times there's a flap that folds back." Picking up the others she had placed in a pile, she wandered over to the back of the store and asked the clerk for a dressing room. Feeling a large figure following behind her as she entered the posh dressing area, she halted and placed an arm out to stop him. "And where do you think you're going?" she demanded with a raised eyebrow.

"To enjoy the show," he cheekily answered and seated his large frame into an upholstered chair that faced the last of the three dressing rooms. His feet propped up onto the matching ottoman and his face focused on her expectantly.

"I don't think so," she snorted and crossed her arms in disapproval. Several bras of different colors and patterns hung from her hands and he lit up at the thought of getting a private peek show of each one in turn. This day kept getting better and better.

"If I'm going to be labeled as _whipped_ the least you can do is give me a show now and then to keep me entertained," he explained and grinned mischievously as she shot daggers at him with the flashing of her sapphire eyes.


	46. Pink Fluff and Baby Blues Part 3

Author's Note: Fair warning - the chapter below contains some adult content. Proceed at your own risk.

Chapter 46: Pink Fluff and Baby Blues Part 3

"If I'm going to be labeled as _whipped_ the least you can do is give me a show now and then to keep me entertained," he explained and grinned mischievously as she shot daggers at him with the flashing of her sapphire eyes. She did have the most exquisite blue eyes he thought as he leaned back and rested his arms behind his head lazily. Their shade of blue shifted in intensity depending on what she was wearing and reflected how she felt, whether that be sleepy, happy, mischievous or angry.

"You cannot stay in here," she hissed just as the clerk who was waiting on her entered the space. "It's for women only."

"Oh, it's fine," the older clerk named Krista said as she aimed a smile at the handsome, tall stranger seated on the chair. "It happens all the time and, with it being a Tuesday, traffic is light in the mall. Daddies-to-be often like to be part of the shopping experience to feel they're part of the pregnancy. My own husband loved to watch me try out clothing while I was pregnant," she unabashedly shared, causing Helen to look surprised while John got a triumphant look on his face. "I think it has something to do with the whole caveman 'I got you knocked up' mentality that men get when their partners are expecting. I know my Tom loved to see me showing off my belly during my six pregnancies."

"Six?" Helen repeated with a frown as she briefly tried to imagine being pregnant that many times. The very thought of going through labor that many times was unacceptable.

"We're Catholic," Krista laughed, "and always wanted a large family. Granted, during the last pregnancy I did have several thoughts of castrating him when I couldn't fit into the passenger seat of our Mercedes. But I got a new car out of the deal so it all worked out in the end and I didn't have to resort to maiming the hubby," she prattled on.

Helen pondered how a shop clerk could afford having six children and a Mercedes. Judging by the size of the diamond on her wedding finger Helen suspected the woman had specifically taken a job at this posh store as a means of escaping the chaos of having six children at home.

John guffawed. "Six is a nice round number for a brood," he commented as he smirked at his partner, who was not amused by the suggestion. "It would be enough for a small game of cricket in the back yard."

"I would have six children over your cold, dead body," she threatened with a narrowing of her eyes. To wipe the smug look off his face, she added, "And I would name any sons I had _Nikola James_ just to annoy you. Every last one of them."

That sobered him up. No child of his was going to be named after that idiot Tesla. "Tic tock," he muttered and motioned to the dressing room. He knew her well enough to know she'd follow through with her threats.

After three minutes of waiting, he called out, "I'm waiting for my show," and, in her dressing room, Helen resisted the urge to go out and smack him. "I'll come out when I find one that fits properly," she returned grumpily. Staring at her reflection in the tall wall mirror her shoulders slumped and her forehead creased as she critically stared at her body. Her once trim and curvy figure was now more pear shaped and overly curvy. She'd felt fine about the changes to her body with her first pregnancy but then she'd waited a long time for the happy event and John had not been in the picture. However, with the second pregnancy and John's presence she was feeling unusually reserved about her body's changes. What if he didn't like how her body looked or worse yet became repelled by it? She was shocked by these thoughts and suddenly felt like crying. Stupid baby hormones. "Get a grip," she hissed softly at her reflection. "This is John we're talking about. You could wear a paper sack and it would turn him on. He's completely bonkers about you." She paused. "Okay, strike the bonkers part. He's no longer bonkers… well, not in that way anymore."

"I'm still waiting," he sang out impertinently. "Don't make me come in there. We'd probably get tossed out on our ears if that happens."

"Just a minute," she groused back as she slipped the final bra on and adjusted it. This one fit perfectly and had enough additional length around the rib cage for expansion should she require it in the next few months. It also was the most comfortable and luxurious. Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened the door and poked her head out.

"No one else here but little old me," he assured cheerily as she looked around to make sure no one else was about. He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Come on now. Don't be shy. Let's have a gander."

Biting the corner of her mouth, she mumbled shyly, "I don't look my best right now. Are you sure you want to see?"

His cockiness left him as he recognized the nervousness in her face and saw how protectively she was clutching to door to cover the rest of her. "Of course I want to see. Why wouldn't I?" he asked as it dawned on him for the first time that he had not seen her undressed in several weeks with the exception of this morning at the doctor's office. The realization that she'd been hiding her glorious body from his view caused him pull his hands from behind his head and sit upright in concern.

"I'm rather large at the moment," she sputtered as she continued to keep the rest of herself hidden behind the door.

"I know," he rumbled in a deep tone as he removed his legs from the ottoman and leaned forward. "I'm the one responsible for getting you into that condition. Most proudly so I might add."

At her continued hesitancy, he stood up and walked the five feet to stand in front of her door. Bringing his face close to hers, he calmly professed, "You do realize that I find your expectant state most intoxicating, right, luv?" When her eyes went wide at his declaration, he bestowed a gentle kiss on her nose. "Call me a caveman if you will but I'll have you know that I adore your curvaceous body. The fact that it's larger just gives me more to worship."

Sniffing loudly as her eyes started to tear up, she softly retorted "Liar" as her tense face soften at his words.

"I do worship your body, woman. I always have… a fact you are well aware of," he answered back as he slowly pushed the door in, forcing her to retreat back into the room as he entered. Once inside the doorway, he took his time roving his eyes over her body approvingly before reaching out and stroking her stomach. His hand slowly made its way up to cup her breast and the next thing she knew he had zipped down the left side of the bra. "I see how this could come in handy," he cheekily observed and ignored her rebuke of "John!" to lean down and place a kiss on her nipple before beginning to suck on her breast. Her breath hitched and her left hand reached out to hold his head against her as her eyes closed at the feelings of pleasure that surged through her. Hearing her little moans of pleasure, he pressed her back against the mirror and suckled harder while reaching up with his other hand to unzip the other side of her bra. If she needed proof of his attraction to her body he was going to give it to her in spades.

"How's everything looking in there?" the clerk suddenly called out as she entered the outer room of the dressing area.

"Fine! Fine!" Helen yelped out hoarsely as she shoved her lover away from her and fumbled with zipping the bra back up. Grinning proudly at having brought her to such a flustered state, John backed out of the room all the while not taking his eyes off her and answered the clerk's question with, "Everything looks perfect. Simply perfect," he drawled as he openly leered at his mate. "This bra works exactly as described. I think we'll take 10." The rosy circles that blossomed on Helen's cheeks further turned him on and he was actually grateful when she slammed the door in his face to redress. Any more looking at her half dressed body and flushed face and he was liable to ravish her on the spot.

"It must be the majestic model," Krista guessed as she leaned against the door frame. "It lifts and holds like a dream. I've had clients say that it's changed their whole perspective of feeling feminine while being pregnant."

"I think my partner's recent experience in said bra has certainly changed her whole perspective on pregnancy, wouldn't you say so, dear?" he loudly proclaimed and stepped back quickly as the dressing room door flew open and banged loudly as it struck the opposite wall.

A flushed looking Helen exited and walked past him without meeting his eyes. Presenting Krista with the handful of rejects she then held up the one bra that did fit and asked if there were others in this same model and size in different colors.

Nodding an affirmative, Krista asked how many Helen wanted and lit up when Helen replied she wanted one of every color. "There are matching panties as well," she eagerly offered and practically skipped out of the room upon learning that her client wanted those as well. This particular bra was the most expensive in the store and combined with matching underpants the commission on this one sale would be more than the last two weeks commissions combined.

Helen had one foot in the doorway back into the sales room when she heard John pompously say, "Left you speechless, did I? Good to know that was still possible."

"Behave, John," she warned. "We're in public."

"Now what would be the fun in that," he purred as he walked past her, giving her a firm smack on her backside as he exited before her.

"Your father is a royal burr in my backside!" Helen hissed under her breath as she touched her stomach. "Honestly, it's going to be nothing short of a miracle if I don't murder him before your birth." Arriving back into the store she was surprised to see him exit through the front entrance back into the mall. She briefly wondered where he was headed then dismissed that thought as a charcoal knit dress caught her attention. As she fingered the soft material she could picture wearing it with a pair of knee high leather boots. When she had first entered the store she had been so focused on acquiring appropriate undergarments that she'd bypassed all the other clothing. That necessary task now out of the way, she methodically made her way through the store selecting outer garments to round out her wardrobe. The store carried a surprisingly high quality array of clothing but one glance at any price tag confirmed that it was well aware of this fact. Not that she cared about that she flippant thought as she carried her pile of new prospects back into the dressing room. She had more than enough money on her to purchase whatever she wanted.

Meanwhile, several stores down, John strolled into a Bloomingdale's and picked out several pairs of high quality socks, underwear, pajamas and robe, and a few sweaters for warmth against the cool outside weather. A sleek, black, long leather duster with dark wool lining made its way to the top of his pile. It wasn't as nice as the others he had owned but, as he couldn't access those without risking a run in with his younger self, he didn't have much choice. It was the first week of November and the temperatures were already dipping down into the 50s. A warm coat was a dire necessity with winter on its way.

As his long legs strode to the counter to pay for his items, his mind wandered back to the day before, when Helen had asked him to retrieve a metal box for her which contained one of the many backup funds she had hidden around the world for emergencies. This one was one of the smaller amounts hidden in a relatively easy place to access if one knew where to look and had the access code to open the safe.

"How many of these do you have tucked away?" John had asked in awe as he watched her withdraw the large stack of bills from the box along with a fake ID, a passport and a pair of credit cards. The name of Miranda Mitchell was listed on each item.

"Enough," she had replied coolly as she counted out several thousands of dollars in cash from the pile. The total sum in the box had amounted to a whopping 250,000 in Canadian currency and his mind boggled with the knowledge that she had more of these boxes hidden who knew where else. When she had sent him off on the mission she had referred to the money simply as small spending change. He wondered what she would consider a sizeable amount to be. She had been rather well off when they first met back at Oxford and only James had been more financially ahead of her. The other three members of The Five were basically scraping by, although ironically John had been better off than both Nigel and Nikola. His part-time teaching appointment helped supplement the small monthly stipend his late father's meager estate had allotted him.

He had been frugal in his spending and had managed to save up a decent sum before approaching the enigmatic Dr. Magnus to ask for Helen's hand in marriage. Suspecting the old man disapproved of him in favor of James, who had easily hit it off with the good doctor, John had been terrified Gregory would deny his request on the grounds that he could not properly provide for the doctor's only child. And Gregory did coldly make him work for his approval that night as he icily stared Montague John Druitt down from behind his large desk while the younger man stuttered his way nervously through his request and outlined how he intended to provide for Helen. Finally, after what had seemed like an eon's length of time, the old man leaned forward and unfolded his interlaced hands to declare that he would not interfere in Druitt's proposing to his beloved daughter and that if Helen were to accept the proposal that he would then grant his official approval. "Helen has always known her own mind, even as a child," Gregory stated. "Only she can truly decide whom she will accept as her spouse. My only concern is that she be happy with her choice and be well provided for. She is my only child after all."

Shaking the memory away, John returned to the register where he had been piling up his selections and handed the waiting clerk the final articles of clothing in his arms. As the clerk began ringing up the purchase, John reached into his pocket to pull out his money. The money that Helen had presented to him the day before. At his questioning look as he felt her press the funds into his left hand, she calmly explained that it was for him to purchase whatever he needed. "It's not as if you can retrieve your belongings without risking our safety," she reasoned as he froze and stared down at the money in his hand. "Besides, does it really matter where the money came from? You accepted Adam's windfall without question."

"That was Adam," he croaked and started to hand her the money back.

She stepped out of his reach as she shot back, "And I'm the woman you love. Deal with it." Giving him a devilish little smile as he glowered at her, she continued, "If it makes you feel any better you can consider it down payment for future frustrations I will be throwing your way."

"Is there something in particular you have in mind?" he questioned suspiciously with a squinting of his grayish blue eyes.

Flashing a dimple at him, she asked, "Ever put together baby furniture?"

"You know perfectly well I have not," he huffed in annoyance at both the question and the fact that he had to accept her charity.

"The word frustration will be an understatement," she explained as she started to back away. "Before it's over, you'll be swearing in multiple languages that I should have given you more money for the task when the time comes. And I will be annoying placid in my response of 'it's only baby furniture, John, surely anyone can put it together'."

"Seriously? It's that difficult?" he asked as his tensed shoulders deflated in surprise at her words.

"Not my first rodeo," she laughingly tossed over her shoulder as she left the room.

Exiting from the register, John came to a stop halfway back out the store as an article of clothing caught his eye. Stepping up to the mannequin, he felt the fabric with one hand and then motioned to a nearby clerk to come over. Five minutes later he strode out of the store laden with bags, returned to the nearby men's bathroom, which luckily was once again unoccupied, teleported back to the car, which by another stroke of luck was parked under several broad branched trees that kept it mostly out of sight, and afterwards teleported back to the men's room stall.

Having paid for her purchases, Helen was patiently standing still as Krista carefully cut the tags off her new dress and red, cashmere shawl. The plain, sensible black shoes she was wearing didn't quite match the sophistication of her new clothing but that was next on her shopping list. After grabbing something to eat.

Looking up, a sweet smile blossomed on her face as she discovered John standing nearby staring raptly at her with the big, goofy grin he would get whenever he was truly happy. "Wow," he praised as his eyes raked over her figure. "Remind me to get you pregnant more often," he joked and chuckled as she pointed a finger at him and repeated her warning of, "Over your cold, dead body."

"Might be worth it," he teased back as he presented her with a large Bloomingdale's bag. Pulling the camel colored item out, she was pleased to find it was a finely structured, full length trench coat.

"It's not leather," he admitted, "but it should work for now."

"Thank you," she said as she reached up to reward him with a kiss on the cheek. "It's lovely."

"You two really are painting the town today," Krista remarked as she accepted the coat to clip off the tag. "Any special occasion?"

"Not exactly. The airline lost all our baggage," John explained as he held up the other bag in his hand, "and we have been forced to replace everything."

"Everything," Helen repeated with a smirk.

"Oh, that's terrible," the clerk sympathized as the couple's expensive shopping spree now made sense to her. No wonder the poor woman needed an entire week's worth of undergarments. "I hope you've found everything you needed."

"Would it be too much of an inconvenience if I were to use the dressing room," John bowed politely. "I'd like to get out of this temporary, ill fitting change of clothing." Understanding now why the tall man's pants seemed too short for his length, the clerk willingly obliged. The amount his partner had spent in the store was equivalent to eight weeks of commission for Krista and the blonde would have gladly given them whatever they wanted in return, including extra time in the dressing room to finish off their quickie. She was no fool. She had known exactly what the pair had been doing alone in that dressing room when she'd interrupted earlier. After all, she had been pregnant six times herself. Baby hormones got the best of many an expectant couple she smugly reflected as she returned Helen's coat.


	47. Getting the Boot

Author's Note: Apologies for re-uploading chapters 40-47. Fanfiction would not let me correct a big error in chapter 40, so I deleted it only to discover I could not then reupload the chapter in the correct order without deleting all the following chapters and reuploading the entire set in the correct order.

Chapter 47: Getting the Boot

Later, Helen sat outside on a bench waiting for John's return as he went off to put her numerous purchases in the car. A large rumble shook her stomach and she gave a chuckle as she patted her bulge. "Alright, darling, hang on. Your father will be back in a minute and then we'll get you something to eat. Craving anything in particular, are you?" she quietly spoke to her little one, who, judging by the motions Helen was feeling, was getting restless waiting for her next meal. Moving her hand in a circular motion, she wondered when she would finally start feeling the baby kicking. Ashley had given her first firm kick in her fifth month of development but then again that was Ashley for you. She was nothing if not prone to swift action Helen recalled affectionately of her eldest child and sighed as longing for her daughter hit her. My sweet baby, Helen sighed again mournfully. I miss you so.

"Why the long face?" a man's voice asked and Helen looked up to find John standing beside her. In his new change of clothing and with his trimmed hair, John presented a very striking figure, one that did not go unnoticed by other women who had passed them today. Holding her hand out to him, she replied, "Just thinking of what I want to eat. The baby seems indecisive at the moment."

John noted that the further along Helen was in her pregnancy the more she began to refer to the baby as a separate, aware entity. He himself was starting to do it. Helping her up, he tucked her arm into his as they headed off to the food court. "Well, that's not like our little bundle of joy. I expect she'll let you know soon enough what she wants." And she did. Stomach rumbling loudly as she surveyed the food court, the starving mommy to be pointed to several stands as she gave John instructions on what she wanted. Setting off in search of a clean table, she stopped along the way to purchase two large strawberry lemonades and hummed happily to herself as she sipped on one as she waited for him to join her.

She had just finished off the first one when John arrived with several plates full of delicious smelling food. "I see you've taken care of the drinks," he remarked as arranged the plates before her. "Actually," she answered with a meek smile as she picked up the second cup, "they're both for me. The baby's craving lemonade again."

Shaking his head at her blatant use of the baby card, John wandered off to get his own drink and was surprised to find Lucy seated at the table when he returned. "Got tired of waiting for us?" he greeted as he sat down.

"Got a craving for pizza, actually," she answered with a grin and soon she too was tucking into a meal and chatting away with the pair. Helen found herself easily taking to the girl, who was a year younger than Ashley. Pleased to hear Lucy was enrolled in her first year of graduate school in Library Science, John asked her why she wanted to be a librarian and beamed as she passionately talked about her love of old and rare texts, something he himself could relate to. She also shared that she was working part-time at the college's rare books repository and could read Latin, French, Greek and Old Irish.

"I'm beginning to understand why James is so taken with you," Helen remarked approvingly. "He's very fond of old texts and reading."

Smiling softly, Lucy said, "James was a God send. I don't know what Nick and I would have done without him. He literally saved us from a life of…" she trailed off abruptly and her face titled down to avoid their eyes. "Well, let's just say he changed our lives for the better."

Helen and John exchanged glances. James had privately told them about the pair he had quietly taken in as youngsters, though both strongly suspected that he had withheld some of the details of the Cutter children's past. He had selected them specifically to help with the Avalon project and thus had kept them separated from the Sanctuary Network though the siblings seemed quite aware of what it was and James and Helen's involvement with it. Indeed, neither had seemed alarmed at John's teleporting abilities which in itself suggested they had been in the presence of abnormals at some point.

Helen herself had not known about the Cutters until two days ago when John had teleported them to the country home James had purchased near the mountain chain within which the ancient city of Avalon was hidden. As per Helen's instructions, James had slowly and secretly purchased thousands of acres of land around the mountain range under various psydnomyns. The lands furthest from the mountains he leased out as farming lots managed by a few leasing firms that they themselves didn't know the true identity of their client. Several layers of individuals and companies prevented any transparency between connecting the dots from the lands and their real owner. The value of the lands had increased substantially over the years, making James even wealthier than in his youth. He could easily make millions by selling off sections of his properties, not that he had any intention of doing that. Money had afforded him great freedom in his life but it was not a priority of his. It was a means, not an end.

"James is a very good man," Helen remarked with obvious affection in her voice.

"He is," Lucy agreed with a light flush to her pale complexion that brought out the contrast of her little sprinkling of freckles stronger in her heart shaped face. Helen and John exchanged glances again. She was thinking the young girl had deep affection for Watson while John was wondering if James had any romantic interest in the lass. She was young enough to be his great granddaughter twice over.

Following the meal, both ladies excused themselves to go to the restroom and came back to find John waiting for them with a sack. "Carmel popcorn, cheese popcorn and dried fruit… for midnight cravings," he answered as Helen raised an eyebrow in question. "Oh, I may have to keep you," she purred and rested her head on his shoulder as they strolled away from the food court. "I earn my keep, my lady," he replied and gave her a kiss to the temple. He could tell from the look on her face that she was beginning to tire and wrapped an arm around her for support as they leisurely walked on.

Lucy shot a sidelong glance at the pair and suppressed an "awe" at their public display. James's hints that the Bickersons should be lightly supervised seemed unwarranted. It was apparent that one of the pair wore the pants in the relationship and that she firmly had the other wrapped around her finger. Whether he realized that or not was irrelevant and should he get out of line Lucy had no doubt that a swift rapt on his knuckles would put him back in his place. She didn't know Helen Magnus well but she had heard of her and could judge her character enough to know the older woman was not someone to tangle with.

At Helen's insistence on one final stop, Lucy led them down to shoe department of Macy's on the ground floor. John sorted through the large options in the men's section while Helen went straight for the women's boots. Biting the bottom of her lip, she scrutinized several pairs, trying to make up her mind what would be a practical number of shoes to purchase. Her swelling feet were painfully crushed in her current pair and she knew from experience that her feet would shrink back to her regular size with months after delivering the child. She finally settled upon three pairs, each one in different lengths and colors, one of which was a sturdy pair that could serve as work boots, and sent the attendant off to pull her required size as she moved on to selecting a two pairs of high heels. Just because she was pregnant didn't mean she couldn't be properly shoed. At the last minute she tossed in a pair of house slippers to ward off the cold floors of their temporary home in the fast approaching winter season.

Resting in a wide chair, she tiredly sighed and rested her hands on her stomach. The attendant had brought the shoes and they fit well enough. Seeing the tired look on Helen's face, Lucy ushered her into the nearest chair and take the shoes and money up at the register. Grateful for the rest, Helen sat back and observed the girl, who seemed taken with a pair of boots on a nearby podium. Though she was nicely dressed Helen doubted a part-time librarian position could afford the type of shoes available in the Macy shoe department. As a way of thanking her for her kindness, Helen offered to purchase the pair Lucy had been admiring when the girl returned with the bags.

"That's most kind of you," Lucy thanked her politely, "but I have a closet full of designer shoes. I'd have to toss a pair out to fit another in my flat." At the dubious look that flitted across Helen's face, Lucy sat down next to her and said, "I know. You're wondering how anyone could afford all of that on a librarian's salary, which is admittedly is not very much. When my brother went into James's employment as an adult, Watson set up a stipend for me to live on upon my turning 18. A very generous one, I might add. Before that, he had footed the bill for both our private schooling and boarding. I wasn't exaggerating when I said earlier that he changed our lives for the better. I only work at the library because I love reading the texts and wanted the work experience for my resume. Technically, I never have to work a day in my life if I don't want to."

"Really?" Helen and John, who had came to stand beside Helen's chair just as Lucy began talking, said in shocked unison. That was one major tidbit James had left out on his recap of the Cutter sibling history.

"Really," Lucy giggled. "I'm a very fortunate girl. And a most grateful one at that."

The couple exchanged pointed looks. Helen was now convinced there was far more to the story than James had revealed to them, and John couldn't decide whether he was bothered by the fact that James was probably keeping the girl as a future, or possibly current mistress, or repelled by the fact that she was about the same age as Ashley. He decided he wasn't going to dwell on it. Who was he to judge anyone's behavior when it came to women given his own dark, violent past.

Abruptly, the two bags dropped from his hands to the carpeted floor by Helen's feet and, as if in a trance, John shuffled behind the seated women.

Helen turned sideways in her chair the best she could and her mouth dropped open at the sight that greeted her. Two feet from her chair, John's tall form was bent over at the waist and his broad face was transfixed in a dazed expression as he stared at a multi-tiered shoe display. Gingerly, one hand reached out and picked up one of the items in the center of the display and placed it in the palm of his other hand.

"John?" Helen called out softly. "Are you alright?" The dumbfounded look he wore concerned her. It wasn't a look she was accustomed to seeing on his face.

"These are the smallest boot I have ever seen," he quietly uttered in an awe laced voice as he stared down at the tiny right shoe resting in his large palm.

"Well… yes," Helen replied in a gentle voice. "Babies are small."

"This small?" he squeaked as he poked his index finger in the shoe, flipped it upside down and held it up to the light.

Reaching out her hand, she grabbed him at the pocket of his pants and tugged him to her. His feet moved willingly back to her but his face retained its dumbfounded look. "This small?" he squeaked again as he retained his focus on the item covering his finger.

Her hand then reached up and pulled his finger down to slip the shoe into her palm. It was a tiny, black suede boot that was lined with pink fur with the same pink fur circling the opening. A thin band of flower embroidered ribbon was delicately placed underneath the circle of fur. It was the sweetest little boot Helen had ever laid her eyes on.

"That is the cutest thing I have ever seen," Lucy gushed as she leaned forward to get a better look. "The baby that wears that would have the world at her feet."

"She would," Helen agreed with a small laugh then let out a loud, surprised gasp. Her eyes flew open and her other hand moved quickly to the top of her stomach. Was that what she thought it was?

"How can any human being wear such a small boot?" John asked, still lost in his fog of awe over the small item. "Two of my fingers fit snuggly in it."

At his saying of the word "boot," Helen felt another kick against her hand. It was definitely a kick she had felt. "Say it again," she ordered breathlessly as her hand pressed against her bulge.

"Two of my fingers fit snuggly in it," he blankly repeated.

"Not that!" she huffed, "the other part. Repeat the other part." Her face scrunch up in a frown as her hand moved around in the hopes of feeling it again. So far nothing.

This time it was his turn to scrunch up his face. "What?"

"Say the other part!" she demanded angrily. "Now!"

"How can any human being wear such a small boot?" he repeated in confusion. "I don't understand…"

Helen let out a little squeal as she felt another kick. This one was the strongest so far. "Boot!" she excitedly babbled and squealed again as her daughter communicated with her once more. "Oh my God," she whispered loudly as tears began to fill her eyes. "I can feel you."

"Helen, what's wrong?" John said in alarm at the sight of her tears and quickly kneeled down next to her. "Is there something wrong with the baby? Are you alright?"

"Say the name of this shoe," she ordered as she held up the boot in her left hand while grabbing hold of his hand, positioning it on her stomach and pressing it down underneath her right hand.

"What?" John asked with a confused shake of his head.

"Helen, are you alright?" Lucy asked wearily to Helen's right.

"Say it!" Helen hissed at him. She desperately wanted to feel her daughter's touch again.

"Boot!" he said quickly and then let out a strangled cry. His other hand flew up to point at their layered hands. "What was that?" he croaked excitedly.

Giving him a big, dimpled grin, the expectant mom merely instructed him, "Again," as she interlaced their hands together.

"Boot" he repeated reverently as if saying a magic word and the corners of his eyes crinkled up in joy as he felt another bump against his hand.

Lucy took in a sharp breath as she realized what was going on. Obviously it was the first time the parents to be had experienced their child's kicking. A male clerk, having observed the couple's animated actions, husseled over to ask if everything was okay.

"I just felt my daughter's first kick," John proclaimed loudly as his face radiated with pride. "Her first kick!" Rather than correct his error, Helen gave him a sweet kiss on the lips. Murmurs of "awe!" and "that's so sweet!" surrounded the couple as those within hearing distance remarked on their special moment.

"A moment like this should be remembered," Lucy declared. "Let me buy the boots as a memento."

"No!" John blurted out and leapt to his feet. "I am her father and I will be the one to purchase her first gift." At the startled look on the women's faces, he adjusted his tone to softly say, "But I thank you for your offer, Lucy. It is most kind."

She responded with an incline of her head and a soft smile. The giant of a man was so going to be wrapped around the tiny finger of that little girl once she entered this world. The bigger the man, the harder they fall she mused.

Flipping the boot over, Helen saw the price of the shoe and frowned. Good grief. That much for what amounted to just enough fabric to cover two adult fingers? It was ridiculous.

The clerk noticed her frown and apologetically said, "They're limited edition by a local designer."

"Even better," John rumbled and motioned wildly to the shoe. "Only the best for our preciously little bundle. We'll take the boots."

"We'll take these in size 9-12 months," Helen corrected, cutting him off as he started to argue. "Newborns have no use for shoes. We want a larger size that will be practical to wear. There's no point in buying them if she never wears them."

"Fine, whatever," the tizzy father to be agreed with a flailing of his hand. "We want the shoes. Ring them up, please," he commanded.

Half an hour later, the happy couple was nested into the back of Lucy's car. John had insisted that they ride together in the back and had one arm wrapped tightly around her shoulder with his other palm resting firmly on her stomach. The front passenger seat and the trunk were piled to down with bags. It was a good thing her car was so roomy Lucy thought as she carefully turned left and maneuvered the vehicle into the center lane. Loud plops of rain punctuated the darkness to splatter against the windows and the additional noise the wiper blades rhythmatically bouncing back and forth soon began to lull Helen into sleep.

"Boot," John whispered again in his continued attempt to get his daughter to respond. He'd been doing it for the last three minutes.

"John," a groggy Helen growled lowly in warning.

"Come on, pet," he whispered as he gently rubbed Helen's stomach around the area he had felt the amazing motion earlier. "Kick for daddy."

One eye squinted open to glare at him. "Stop it," she ordered as she gave his chest a smack.

"Just once more," he pleaded. "I just want to feel her once more and then I'll leave you alone for the night."

"Lucky me," she grumbled with a loud yawn.

"Boot," he whispered again and laughed as he felt the faint little kick.

"Great. Just great!" Helen groaned, giving him another smack before shifting away from him and sitting up straighter. "Now I have to go to the bathroom. You just couldn't let her sleep in peace, could you?"

Laughter drifted back from the front seat. "There's a McDonald half a block ahead. I'll pull in there."

A little smile tugged up at the corner of Helen's mouth. "Ummm, McDonald's French fries," she murmured in delight. "Yum."

Feeling guilty, John apologized and promised to get her some fries while she went to the loo.

"And a small strawberry milkshake," she demanded as Lucy pulled in to park. "And when we get back into the car you can stay on your side of the vehicle, Mr. Boot Boot," she grumpily ordered as she reached for the door handle to exit.

Another burst of giggles escaped from the front seat as Lucy observed the big pout on his face reflected in the rear view mirror.

"I said I was sorry," John grumbled as he climbed out of his side of the car to follow in her wake. "I just wanted to bond with our offspring," he justified. "You get to do that with her all the time."

"Oh, shut up!" was her only reply as she stomped into the restaurant and let the door slam in his face.

"This is better than a sitcom," Lucy giggled again as she picked up her cell phone to text James that they were on their way home. "Now I know why James mentioned not letting her anyway near a weapon. Daddy dearest wouldn't live to see the tomorrow at this rate."


	48. Return to Avalon Part 1

Chapter 48: Return to Avalon Part 1

The rain was coming down harder by the time the vehicle pulled into the two car garage of the large, attractive, log cabin home. The immediate land around the cabin was cleared and well kept but for the most part the forest around it had been left intact. Low barbed wire and wood fencing encircled the "compound," as its inhabitants called it, for a five mile radius. To outsiders, the compound seemed like a quiet country retreat with its nearest neighbor a good 10 miles south. However, if one were to try to penetrate the fencing or the remote controlled gate, silent alarms would signal the intrusion and the inhabitants of the cabin could employ a series of security measures, some of which were quite fatal, to defend themselves from unwanted trespassers.

Looming behind the cabin was the large mountain chain that was the reason for the cabin's remote location. Residing somewhere in there was the lost Stone City in the Mountain which would serve as the temporary sanctuary for them all. Avalon couldn't really be called legendary James mused as he stared out into the dark at the barely visible peaks of the mountain, because few knew of its existence, as Helen had told her father that day when the four of them had held their meeting in John's seaside cottage. Since that time, James had been obsessed with finding out everything he could about the place. And a century later, what little he had come across in his secret research had only whetted his appetite for more. It was the biggest mystery he had come across and had yet to solve… well second biggest mystery. He still did not know the truth about John's recovery from his derangement and whether it was permanent or not. He sincerely hoped it was permanent for Helen and the children's sakes.

The opening and closing of doors drew his attention from the window and he shifted in his seat to greet the new arrivals. Lucy entered first, carrying colorful bags of purchases, and gave him a warm smile. "We made it back safe and sound. All intact, amazingly enough."

"Good thing too, as your brother was about to set off to retrieve you," James returned with an equally warm smile. The girl had been an unexpected treat in his long life, one that he treasured quietly and deeply. Not even Helen had been aware of her, or her brother's, existence until two days ago.

"Yes, I was," Nick Cutter confirmed as he entered behind her, carrying even more bags, and was followed by Helen and John, both also carrying numerous bags.

"I am not made of sugar," Lucy retorted with a roll of her emerald eyes. "I will not melt in the rain."

"No, you are definitely not sweet enough to melt," Nick shot back, "but it's getting nasty outside. An ice storm is predicted for tonight and the roads are getting too slick for you to be driving around in."

"All those in this room who have not been in a car accident raise your hands," she smartly said and smirked at the group. "I believe that would only be myself and Mister-I've-never-driven-a-car here," she indicated to John with a twist of her head.

"That does not preclude us worrying about you," James gently reprimanded. "Especially with the world's most reckless driver in your back seat to egg you on."

"You're just sore because I made you scream like a little girl six months ago during that car chase in Germany," Helen threw out as she started to head towards her bedroom with the bags. "Don't hold a grudge, Jimmy. What's happened in the past is in the past. Move forward."

"Right," he snorted. "Because the past always stays in the past and can't come back to bite you in bum." He shook his head as he heard her laughing on her way down the hall. The other three adults, laden down with bags, followed in her awake, also laughing. Standing up, he bent down to grab more logs and tossed them into the double-sided fireplace. She actually had made him scream during that car chase, though the version of Helen Magnus that had done so had been the younger one with brunette hair. His cursed legs, encased in their metal skeletal support, had not been quick enough to reach the driver's side of the car before her and thus he had been stuck riding shotgun while she tore down the highway like a madwoman. He had to admit that the arrangement had been to their advantage given that he was the better aim with firearms and thus had expertly been able to dispose of their pursuers one by one. Tires, even high speeding ones, made better targets than people hiding behind buildings or trees.

By the time they began returning to the living room, James was back in his chair with the kettle heating up in the kitchen on the other side of the fireplace. "Did she leave nothing in the stores?" he asked John as the big man came to sit next to him in the companion wing chair.

"Only because there was no more room left in Ms. Cutter's vehicle," John answered with a grin as he leaned forward and move his chess piece. "We haven't even purchased any of the baby necessities yet."

"Hmmm," James muttered as he moved his piece, "note to self. Make yourself scarce when the time comes for baby furniture."

"Not you too," John muttered back as he concentrated on the board. "It cannot be that bad. You're both just trying to psych me out."

"Of course we are," James teased. "We're funny like that."

Shaking her head at the two longtime friends and their constant battle of wits, Lucy continued on to the kitchen and set up the tea tray in preparation of the kettle's boiling. She was carrying the tray in just as Helen, now dressed in warm pajamas, robe and slippers shuffled slowly into the room. Sitting down at the end the comfortable couch closest to the fire, Helen defiantly raised an eyebrow at the two men who had silently watched her progress. "If the word 'waddle' comes out of either of your mouths anytime before this child is born, you're dead men," she warned. "I do not waddle, have never waddled and nor will I ever be seen waddling. Is that clear?"

"Duly noted," both men grinned. "Helen, you know very well I would never dream of saying any such thing. I am a gentleman. I can't vouch for him, though. He has a unique way of putting his foot in his mouth when it comes to you," James declared as he took John's rook off the playing board.

Ignoring the jab, John said with a concerned look, "I thought you were going to rest." The tired lines around her eyes bespoke of her exhaustion, not that he would be stupid enough to point such a thing in her presence.

"Soon," she sighed and propped her swollen feet up onto the rectangular ottoman. "First we need to plan for tomorrow's trip."

"Another shopping trip so soon?" Lucy asked with a smile as she distributed the cups and saucers and poured the tea. "You'll put me and my shopping habit to shame soon. And that's saying something."

"You want to go shopping again?" John asked with a frown as he accepted his tea.

"The roads are going to be a mess tomorrow. You're not going anywhere," Nick commanded of his sister as he took a seat at the other end of the couch. Flopping down between him and Helen, Lucy opened her mouth to tell her bossy older sibling off but was cut off by Watson's, "I agree. It would be best to stay off the roads tomorrow."

Interrupting before the three could get into an argument, Helen explained, "We're not going shopping. Tomorrow is James's last free day for a bit. He has to return to the London Sanctuary for a meeting with Declan and some members of the Barcelona Sanctuary. We need to enter the mountain and gain access into hidden city."

"I've found the entrance into the mountain," the older Cutter sibling confirmed. "But all the tunnels end up in dead ends. And all the alcoves that I've scaled in those tunnels do the same. The few markings that I've discovered carved into the walls are along three paths and are in at least three languages the best I can tell. One is cuneiforms in ancient Sumerian. The few we've been able to decipher so far seem to be warnings to turn back and not to go forward. Not exactly the most encouraging of messages."

"Impressive," Helen praised and eyed the young man with increasing respect. She had seen the intelligence in his eyes from their first meeting. Nicholas Cutter was a handsome, tall, rugged looking man with strong jaw, green eyes and short brown hair. She had been right to suspect that there was more to this quiet, studious man than what James had told her.

"Excuse me," Lucy interjected with a raised finger, "who deciphered the cuneiforms?"

Smiling down at her, Nick rubbed her head affectionately and laughed as she slapped at his hand. "My bookworm of a younger sister did," he clarified. "I'm more of your tracker variety."

The sudden sound of ice pelting the window startled them all. "Perhaps they are right, Helen," John exclaimed. "It would be best to stay inside. Everything will be slick and iced by tomorrow. We can wait until James is able to sneak away again for a day or two."

Shaking her head, she stubbornly asserted, "No, it must be tomorrow. We're running out of time. I want us to be safely ensconced in Avalon before the baby comes. I can't deliver the baby unless I know she'll be safe." She gave a loud sigh and rubbed her stomach. "And I think she's going to come before the end of nine months. I wasn't this big the first time."

"No harm will come to the child," James tried to reassure the worried expectant mother. "We'll make sure of it." A murmur of agreement issued from the others.

"That's what we thought about Ashley," Helen reminded them. "I need to have our home base settled and the nursery finished before I can have the child with any peace of mind."

"Looks like its tomorrow then," Lucy stated with undisguised interest in her voice. "It's not that far a walk to the mountainside and we'll be indoors after that." She clapped her hands in excitement. "It will be an adventure, discovering a long, lost city. I can't wait. What time are we heading out?"

"You're not going," Nick ordered with a shake of his head. "You're staying here, where it's safe. We don't know what we'll find, assuming we can even locate the entrance into the city."

"You are not the boss of me," Lucy pouted and crossed her arms defensively over her chest. "I am an adult now and I'll do what I want."

"You are not going," James agreed and stared stoically back the sulking girl.

"This is because I'm a woman, isn't it?" she glared at James angrily. "I'm being discriminated based on my sex. That's unfair and I most ardently protest. I have rights, you know."

"Yeah, you're still not going," Nick insisted, unmoved by his sister's show of anger.

"And neither are you," Helen flatly declared as she took a sip of her tea, startling the others.

"What? Why not?" the young man demanded and glanced over at James for support. He'd been trying to find a way into the city for five years, ever since Watson had taken the Cutters into his confidence regarding the true reason for building the country home here in the sticks.

"For the exact same reason that Lucy will not be going," Helen calmly explained. "It's not safe."

"But you're going. If it's not safe for us it's certainly not safe for you in your current condition," Nick pointed out with a wave of his hand in her general direction.

She fixed on him the stern look she used on Ashley whenever her daughter pitched a fit over being denied something. "If that's a comment on my physical appearance I would think very carefully what words come out of your mouth next, young man. I may take longer to get up and out of a chair right now but that doesn't mean I can't throw you to the floor," she warned, garnering snickers from the two older men in the room who were amused at her sudden mood swing. Particularly since neither of them were on the wrong end of it at the moment.

"Helen," James smiled, "do stop threatening my protégé, if you please. He was raised well enough to know not to disparage an expectant woman's looks." At the boy's nod of agreement, James continued, "And I think you should reconsider allowing him to come with us. He is a very good tracker. His talents could be of great use to us."

"Oh, and I guess I'm chopped liver?" Lucy sulked. "I'm the one who deciphered some of the markings. I could be of great use to you too!"

"Enough," Helen tiredly cried. "I have no doubt that you both possess skills that can be of use to us but for the first jaunt into the city it must be only the three of us," she said as she indicated herself, John and James with a nod of her head. "We are the only ones that will be able to get through the security system to deactivate it. Once that is done, then it will be safe for you both to accompany us into the city."

At the questioning look on James' face, Helen added, "I know it's been a very long time for you, James, but do recall that I had asked my father to alter the city's security devices to allow only us to enter. Anyone else entering would be in mortal danger."

"Bloody hell," John huffed and leaned back into his chair to stare upward in dismay. He had totally forgotten about that. "He's going to booby trap the city like Bhalassam, isn't he?"

"Of course he is," she answered as if it was no big deal. "That was the point of my asking him to do it."

"I take it this isn't a good thing?" James asked and moved his hand forward to grab a chess piece only to have John gruffly announce, "It's still my turn. Hands off, Snoopy Pants."

"Then make your move, you big ox. I'm an old man. I haven't all year to wait for you to lose this match."

"I haven't lost yet," he retorted and captured one of his opponent's pieces.

Across from them, Helen rolled her eyes. They were two old, stubborn men who loved to needle one another like Oscar and Felix did from The Odd Couple tv series.

"What kind of booby trap are we talking about?" Lucy inquired curiously.

"With her father," John answered, "there's no telling. He gets creative in his methods for rigging a trap. They are always fatal if the attempt fails or goes awry."

"He wouldn't happen to be one of the people who left those markings on the walls," Nick cracked jokingly and was taken aback when Helen said, "Could be. He does know many languages, including ancient Sumerian."

Seeing the dumbfounded look on boy's face, the corner of James' mouth turned up. "Gregory Magnus is a unique character. You'd be amazed at the things he's capable of. She came by her stubborn tenacity and recklessness legitimately," he explained with a nod in Helen's direction.

"There is nothing wrong with tenacity," she exclaimed with a loud yawn. "Empires have been created and destroyed due to tenacity. And neither I nor my father is reckless. We are merely curious and adventurous."

"Tenacity is great as long as one is the dog and not the poor bone," James answered as he swooped in to capture his opponent's king. "And curiosity has been known to kill the cat."

"Which is why I'm a big dog," John quipped and chuckled as James groaned at the bad pun.

Yawning loudly again, Helen announced, "We'll head out in the morning, after breakfast."

"Fine," John agreed with a yawn of his own. The day's activities had caught up with him too and suddenly he was ready for bed. Standing up, he stretched his lean form to pop out the tension in his joints and walked over to help his sleepy lover to her feet. Their yawns proved to be contagious.

Yawning demurely, Lucy stood up and bid everyone goodnight. "I'm still put out with you," she informed Watson as she leaned down to kiss his cheek.

"You're still not going," he answered good-naturedly and gave her a little swat on her bottom. "Sleep well, little one."

"You too, gramps," she giggled and headed off to her bedroom, which was upstairs along with her brother's. The other two bedrooms were located on the ground floor.

Helen was tucked under the covers by the time John finished his nighttime ablutions and she gave him a sleepy smile as he slid in next to her. Pulling the covers up to his chest, he turned to kiss her on the temple. "I thought you'd be asleep by the time I came back."

"I was just thinking," she murmured as he wrapped one arm around her and rubbed her stomach with the other. "And don't you dare wake her up."

He gave her stomach one final rub before resting his hand there. "I was just saying goodnight to our little one. And what are you thinking about? The expedition tomorrow? No point in worry over what Gregory has in store for us. We won't know what the tasks are until we face them."

"Funny you should use that phrase," she said and placed her hand on top of his on her stomach. Stroking his hand, she continued. "I was thinking about James… and Lucy."

John groaned softly. "I don't think we want to go there, Luv. I know I certainly don't want to poke around in that area."

"I wondered about their relationship earlier. I know you did too… after Lucy dropped that bomb about the trust fund."

He shifted uncomfortably. "It's none of our business… what goes on between those two. They are both adults." He paused. "I just hope they are discreet about it. She's awfully young."

Letting out a soft laugh, she turned her head to stare at him. "They're all younger than us. Very few of our age exist. But you're reading the situation wrong. James just inadvertently told us the true nature of their relationship."

"How so?" he asked as he tried to replay their earlier conversation in his drowsy mind.

"He sent her off to bed with the nickname of 'little one.'"

"So?"

"Have you ever called me little one?" she asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

"No," he answered with a soft rumble of laughter. "You'd haul off and deck me for using such an appellation."

"Exactly," she smugly said. "It's not something one calls their lover… but it is something one calls their offspring."

John stiffened. "You think Lucy is his daughter? That the boy is also his son?" He frowned. "Why would he not tell us that they are his offspring? The whole reason we are all gathered in this household is because of offspring, both current and future."

"Because biologically they aren't his offspring," she said with a long sigh. "But it's obvious that he's accepted them in such a way that the three feel they are a family. Aside than us, I've never seen him behave so intimately with others the way he interacts with the Cutter children." She drifted off lost in thought for a long moment before he prompted her back.

"How can you be so sure they aren't his?" John questioned. "They all have the similar eye color and are tall and slim in build."

"But otherwise they don't resemble James," she noted. "They wouldn't."

"Because," he prodded.

"Because," she sighed loudly, "they can't."

When she grew silent again, he shifted position to bring their heads level in order to stare into her eyes. "Helen?"

Sadness filled her sleepy blue eyes. "The Cutter children cannot be James's because… well, because James cannot have children."

Eyes widening, John pulled back and sat upright. "He cannot? Ever? Are you sure?"

"Each of our gifts had a price… or two or three. One of his was that he could not produce a biological child."

John leaned back against the upholstered headboard thunderstruck. "I had no idea."

"No one does, except me." She shifted on her pillow to stare up at him. "Don't let him know you know. It would hurt his pride. Deep underneath he is still a Victorian."

"That would explain one of the reasons why he was so angry with me all these years," John moaned morosely. "All those years he employed young street urchins to help him in his investigations he was also helping them, and by extension their families, to survive their impoverished conditions. I always knew he liked children, though he never spoke of such a thing. To have me walk out on you and Ashley must have been a major slap in his face. You were both the family he had always wanted."

Lowering her eyes, she said nothing. It was an astute observation on his part and hit a tender nerve between the three of them. If she hadn't loved John as much as she did she could have let him go completely and had a family with James and Ashley. But that wasn't possible and she and James knew it.

A tense silence lie between them as they reflected on their complicated past, one in which James was interwoven throughout. Helen's yawn broke the ice between them.

"We should get some sleep," John said, reaching over to turn off the table lamp and easing himself back down under the covers next to her. Though his head rested close enough to hers that he could inhale her familiar scent, he refrained from touching her, feeling reluctant to do so after the awkwardness of their conversation. He had left her pregnant with a child during a time when such an act could have resulted in her banishment into poverty and being an outcast in society. It was Gregory and James's interventions that had prevented such devastation and that had allowed Helen and Ashley to live their lives as they did. The energy elemental that was Jack had led him to fail the two people he cared about the most in the world. And by some miracle Helen had forgiven him and accepted him back a century later. And she was soon going to bring another one of their children into the world. In the dark, his right hand clamped on the bed cover in a death grip as a surge of fear swept through him. What if history repeated itself and he failed them again? "I think I would rather die than go through that again," he depressingly thought to himself. This time it would be worse because he would have been a part of the child's life, not some detached stranger like he was with Ashley. This child would call him father and look to him for comfort and safety.

He jumped in surprise as a cold item touched his face. "Sorry," she whispered softly and tucked her chilly hand under the covers. She had seen the haunted look in his eyes and, knowing he was lost in their miserable past, reached out to pull him back to her. As his eyes came back to focus on her beautiful face, which was visible in the low light coming from one of the uncovered windows, his breath caught painfully in his chest. "Helen…" he choked out as he tried to think of some way to express his true sorrow for past failures.

She stopped him by snuggling up against him and tucking her head underneath his chin. "We're cold," she whispered with a pout. Her hands clutched at his shirt then slackened to rest on his chest.

"So I can tell," he grimaced as a pair of ice cold feet pressed against his leg. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder to hold her against him, he asked, "What happened to your socks, hmm?"

"My feet are swollen from all the walking earlier. The socks hurt," she pouted again and pressed her nose against his neck, causing him to softly chuckle.

"Fear not, my lady, I shall kept you both warm," he gallantly murmured as he kissed her temple and breathed in her sweet scent. "Even if that means having to endure your cold extremities." His right hand reached down to pull the covers up tight around her while his left hand rhythmically rubbed up and down her left arm softly. The motion was lulling her into sleep.

"John," she said with a yawn.

"Umm," he murmured sleepily back. Her warm body pressed against him was lulling him into sleep.

"James is doing everything in his power to help us protect our children. We need to do the same for the ones he considers his," she whispered.

"Agreed," he whispered back. That resolved, their breathing deepened and soon both were fast asleep in their warm cocoon of tangled bodies.


	49. Return to Avalon Part 2

Chapter 49: Return to Avalon Part 2

Staring out into the bleak landscape, his breath fogged up the window and he stepped back to rub at his chilly nose. The rain had stopped sometime in the early morning and had left its mark behind with a light sheeting of ice over everything. It was the kind of day one chose to stay inside, preferably by a fire, tucked under warm covers and reading a good book. Instead, they were about to set off on another expedition. He sincerely hoped this one turned out better than the previous one the three had journeyed together on. Sighing, he turned at the sound of approaching footsteps and the familiar sound that accompanied Watson's mechanical leg braces.

Helen and James mirrored him in their dark, warm clothing and serious expressions. The three knew what was at stake today and why it was so important to find and enter the lost city as soon as possible. Straightening to full height, John once again tried to dissuade her from going. "It is rather slick outside. The mountain is going to be worse. I really do think it best if James and I go. I am still concerned that something might happen to you and the baby if you accompany us."

Unmoved, she retorted, "And I am concerned something might happen to you both if I do not accompany you. You know the types of tasks we might be facing. We all need to be present to make it through. And that's that," she stubbornly declared, cutting off his next attempt.

"Suck it up, Big Foot. We're off to wonderland," James quipped with a roll of his eyes. He'd listen to them bicker all through breakfast and blamed his low, throbbing headache on their squabbling, though truth be told it was more likely due to the weather.

"I wouldn't be so eager to fall down the rabbit hole if I were you. Gregory's traps are not something to sniff your nose at," the annoyed man shot back. "I think he enjoys sending his victims into the maze knowing that few will actually make it out alive." His slur of the great Doctor Magnus earned him death glare from the mother of his child, who was easily the old man's number one fan.

James rubbed his temple and silently swore under his breath. If the lovers didn't kill one another before the end of the trip he was liable to put them both out of their misery with his gun. "At least he doesn't have to journey through the maze with you two. I must be the mad to do it myself."

The trio stopped their sniping as the Cutter siblings entered the room. Nick, also dressed for the elements, wore the same serious expression as them and had been mostly silent throughout breakfast. Lucy, on the other hand, had gotten over her sulking from the night before and was her cheerful self. Both were carrying backpacks.

Handing one to each man, the lad said, "Emergency supplies, including torches, flares, rope, matches, and cantinas."

Helen received the much lighter pack from his sister. "Torch, cantina, extra water, and a first aid kit. Everyone has sandwiches, crisps and granola bars. The mommy to be has a few extra goodies, should the wee little one crave treats," Lucy sang out pleasantly.

"Thank you, Lucy," Helen said gratefully and hoisted the pack onto her back. She had been planning to pack a few things herself but the thoughtful children had anticipated her and taken care of it themselves.

"I'm glad to see you're not holding a grudge," James observed.

"Oh, I am," she smiled back. "But there's no point in pouting about it until you get back and can suffer through my revenge."

"I see," he snorted. "I look forward to it… unless it involves you cooking another turkey. That would just be cruel and unusual punishment."

"Ha ha," she replied and held up a small container before his face. "Ibuprofen for your budding headache. Perhaps I should withhold it and let you continue to suffer in silence, hmmm?" She tilted her head as if pondering taking it back.

Grabbing the bottle from her, he gently reprimanded, "Be nice. I'm traveling with the Bickersons. I'm being punished enough." Prying the lid open, he dropped two pills into his palm before popping them into his mouth and closed the lid on the bottle, which he then tossed into his backpack. Giving her an affectionate smile, he accepted the bottle of water from her.

"We're not bickering," John clarified. "We are negotiating, as all adults in relationships are wont to do."

"And the negotiation is over," Helen declared and focused on Nick. "Ready to lead the way?"

He nodded. Earlier at breakfast, the group had gone over their plans. He was to lead them into the mountain and to the passage ways in which he'd found the wall markings. Afterward, he would return to the house and work with Lucy on developing a listing of equipment and supplies they would need to purchase for the relocation into the mountain city.

"Be careful," Lucy fussed and gave Watson a kiss on the cheek.

"Yes, mother," he teased back.

Letting out a loud sigh, John started to move toward the door leading out of the living room. "I guess we'd better be off."

Shaking his head, Nick moved in the opposite direction, toward the kitchen. "This way."

"The mountain is out this door," John exclaimed in confusion.

"Yes," Nick agreed, "but the secret tunnel entrance is down in the cellar," he called over his shoulder as he continued on.

"Wait!" Lucy cried, rushing after her brother. "Secret tunnel? In the cellar? We don't have a cellar!"

The three remaining adults followed the pair to the pantry and watched as Nick reached underneath the far corner of one of the shelves and, with a soft click, the back wall quietly swing inward.

Mouth dropped open, Lucy demanded, "How come I don't know about that?"

"Because you would have wandered off into the tunnel by yourself," her brother smugly declared and a moment later cried "Ow!" as his angry sibling punched him in the arm. "Was that really necessary?" he growled as he rubbed at his arm.

"Creep," she snarled back and considered punching him again.

"Let's be civil, children, shall we?" James called out and stepped between the two.

Crossing her arms, Lucy glared at him. "My future method of revenge has just escalated and you're both on my hit list," she informed him, realizing he knew full well of the existence of the secret tunnel entrance.

"Duly noted," he said as he marched past them to start his descent down the wooden staircase to the lower level. His little darling did have quite the temper when she felt crossed or slighted. Nick followed behind him, with John and Helen in his wake, and Lucy in the rear. The space was clean and set up to look like a root cellar at one end and a storage space underneath the stairs. The floor was packed dirt that muffled their footsteps. Reaching one of the support beams, he held up his open palm before one middle section and a faint green beam moved over it.

"There's a matching one on the other side," Nick explained as he watched a section of the cellar wall quietly slid into a wall pocket. "I've programmed all of our palm prints into the system so we can come and go as needed."

"Including mine?" Lucy questioned, causing him to heave a sigh. "I'll add you as soon as I get back," he promised and then hurried through the entrance before she could complain further. "Stay there!" he ordered over his shoulder and was grateful that she actually followed his instruction. He suspected Watson had reiterated his command.

Running his hand over a small, clear panel the size of a light switch, Nick continued to move forward as lights on either side of the tunnel came alive beside and before him.

"You installed all of this?" Helen asked in surprise. "By yourself?"

"Didn't have to," the young man said. "This was all here when we were looking to situate the cabin. The contractor discovered the outer chamber when they were excavating. I felt around the walls, found the sliding door on my own, and then had the contractor leave the space as a root cellar and add the staircase. Luckily the floor was packed earth, otherwise the builder might have thought it had historic value and called in the local authority for archaeological exploration. Then we would have been up a creek."

"And the lights were here as well?" Helen surmised as she stopped and ran her hand over one. The panel was a sleek, clear plastic that seemed to her to be a more primitive version of the lights along the tunnels to Praxis.

"Yes, fortunately. They powered up as soon as I entered the tunnel, as if they were in sleep mode." Fifteen minutes later, the group reached a wider section that inclined upward and the smooth tunnel walls changed into rock. They had entered the mountain itself. Once at the top, Helen, breathing heavier than normal, sat down on a section of rock and propped her feet up on their heels at an angle. "I'm fine," she declared firmly at John's worried look. "Just give me a minute." She opened her backpack and pulled out the cantina for a long drink of water. She was carrying a good eight pounds more with this child than she had been when pregnant with Ashley.

James took the opportunity to question Nick as the two walked around the crescent shaped space. After listening to the boy's explanation of the tunnel branches that they would soon encounter, he nodded politely and informed the surprised lad that they might not need to go any further. Moving along the curved wall, he stared at its surface as he looked for the tale-tell signs of an opening. The crescent shape, despite the natural rock wall, was just a fraction too sharp to be natural as far as he was concerned. At Nick's insistence that he'd not found anything in this section the older man shook his head. "Something's here," he muttered and continued his slow inspection. Finally, he stopped around the far curve, which was opposite of the direction Nick had wanted to take them and began feeling around the wall.

"You've found something?" John asked as he and Helen joined them.

"Something's here," the other man repeated. "I just have to find the right spot."

Touching the rock, Helen raised her eyes upward. Twelve feet up the rocks jutted out further, as if to canopy the section below. Taking three steps back, she stared up and soon noticed the pattern of a horizontal wave with a longer, rounder rock jutting out above it. "James, look for a rock formation in the pattern of a two circular rocks and a horizontal one."

"Why?" John and Nick asked in unison.

"Because," she said as she pointed to the formation above, "the horizontal wave and circle above was one of the symbols I remember from my father's notes on Avalon. It marked an entrance into the city."

"Bloody hell," Nick muttered. "All this time I've been wandering up and down tunnels and the entrance was right at the beginning."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure there are more entrances into the city. At least two that I can recall from Father's notes. This is the most direct, I expect." She gave a small laugh at seeing the excited twinkle in Watson's eyes as he found the obscure formation in the wall. It was well hidden among the rest of the wall's rough jutting rocks so much so that one would have to know it was there to find it. Laying his palm over the stones, he pressed hard and the group gave a collective gasp as a loud clicking noise sounded and a ten foot section of the wall slid sideways.

"Bull's-eye," Nick exclaimed eagerly and rubbed his hands together.

"Indeed," James agreed. The group huddled together to peer inward and were surprised when the area lit up automatically, like the previous walkway they had marched up earlier. In the center resided a gigantic metallic ball on what appeared to be tracks, only they were not any type of track either Watson or Cutter had ever seen before. That couldn't be said for the other two in the room.

"Is this what I think it is?" John asked with an upturn of his mouth.

"I think so," Helen answered, also pleased with their find. "The question is does it still work."

"It's a transportation system," John explained to the other two, "sort of like a high speed rail ball. This one's larger and older looking than the others I saw in Praxis."

"That's because this city was abandoned at least twenty years before what Father wrote in his notes would become Praxis' golden age. The few remaining residents of Avalon left with Father when he returned to Praxis. Perhaps some of the early roots of Praxis' technology come from this area."

"Praxis sounds like a Blade Runner type of city," Nick said with undisguised curiosity. "What sort of place is it?"

"The kind that is tightly ruled by a few powerful senators, a heavily armed military and the long standing creed that no strangers enter without the punishment of death," Helen described dryly. "Not the most accommodating of places to visit."

"You entered," the boy pointed out.

"Yes," she admitted. "And my team and I were promptly sentenced to execution as soon as we were caught."

James, who had been inspecting the metal ball, asked, "How did you escape? The usual? Blast your way out?"

"More like agreed to offer my special services for the unique abnormal problem they were having. It's a long, complicated story."

"And you were there with her?" James asked Druitt as the bigger man stepped up to the ball's door to activate them.

The doors slid open with a groan, as if in need of greasing, and the group stared inside. Shaking his head, John said, "Back door, led by a man crazier and deadlier than myself."

"Well, that's hard to picture," James quipped sarcastically.

"Oh, you can picture it most clearly," John answered with a derisive snort. "The nutter was almost one of us," he explained as he held up six fingers. "Still holds a grudge that we chose petticoats here over him."

Watson's eyes flew wide. "What? You can't mean…" He was cut off as Helen's hand clamped over his mouth.

"Let's focus on the here and now," Helen declared as she fixed James with a sharp look. "We're on a tight deadline." Feeling him relax, she removed her hand and nodded an apology. She then glared at her lover. "Petticoats?"

"That's one of the slurs he used against you. Though I don't find it to be that bad of a slur as slurs go. You did have the loveliest of petticoats," he softly praised and gave her a wink before stepping into the ball.

James groaned. "If he's going to flirt constantly on this trip I'm pitching him out the door."

Helen turned to the young man. "We'll take it from here, thank you, Nick."

"But you don't even know where this leads to," the alarmed youth exclaimed as he waved one hand at the ball. "The track could be damaged somewhere along the way or this could be one of those traps you all spoke of earlier."

"It will be alright," James tried to reassure his protégé. "I have a feeling these two know more about this technology than they've been letting on so far."

"We'll be back as soon as we can," Helen stated and placed a hand on his forearm. "And we'll keep James safe."

"You'd better," the lad retorted, "because if you're not back by midnight I'm coming to look for you. And there's a good chance I'll be shadowed by an angry librarian-to-be."

"Don't do that," Helen replied with a worried look. "It's not safe for you to enter until we can deactivate the security system."

"Then you'd best be back before midnight," Nick insisted stubbornly. "Lucy will never let me have a moment of peace if I let anything happen to him."

"We'll be back," James promised. "Keep her away from here in the meantime. She'll be down in the tunnels looking for more markings to decipher if we don't keep her at bay."

"Right," Nick agreed with a heavy sigh. He was not happy about being left behind. James was brilliant and all but he was declining in health in his advancing age and Nick would have preferred to be with him to protect the older man.

"We'll be back," James repeated as he stepped into the ball to join the other two. The two men stared at one another poignantly before the doors closed and the metallic ball shot away at a surprising speed.

"Wow," the man left behind exclaimed with a shake of his head.

Inside the moving car, Helen sat down and rested her pack beside her as the two men remained standing and looking out the center window. "Adam Worth?" James suddenly said with a raised eyebrow. "Did I get that right? He was with you in Praxis? And later you two followed after him when he returned back to Victorian England for Imogene."

"I told you about that when we dined after I arrived back in Victorian London," John reminded him.

"That was a century ago. Refresh my memory," James grumpily demanded.

"I'll give you the condensed version to jog your memory," John volunteered and quickly gave a summary of Adam's attack on Helen, poisoning her to induce her help in getting back into Praxis, and then double crossing him once the two men had arrived to check on her.

"After all that," James stated in disbelief, "you still agreed to help him escape a second time? Remind me again how you're the less crazy of the two?"

"Apparently he didn't learn his lesson the first time," Helen added with a frown aimed at Druitt. She hadn't forgotten John's betrayal concerning Worth.

Clenching his jaw, John groused, "I told you both I deeply regret my actions where Worth is concerned. But I would like to point out that we wouldn't be here today in the hopes of changing the future had I not allowed Adam to live longer than he should have. Do try to keep that fact in mind while you're ganging up on me."

"That's true," Helen admitted grudgingly as she patted her stomach and felt her daughter's kick. The slowing of the railcar's motion alerted them that they were nearing their destination. Who knew what Gregory Magnus had in store for them on the other side. When the car came to a full stop and the doors slid open the trio exchanged cautionary glances and prepared to exit. Moving forward to exit first, John quipped, "Geronimo," and took a deep breath before stepping out the car.


	50. Return to Avalon Part 3

Chapter 50: Return to Avalon Part 3

His large feet made loud crunching sounds as he stepped down onto a stone platform that was coated with rubble and crushed gravel. Holding up one hand to warn the others to stay put, he swiveled his head to pan the rectangular space that served as an exit station. He took a hesitant step forward and then another and jerked as faint, flickering lights lit up the platform. "It appears this section had a cave in," he yelled back. "We need to be careful not to trigger any further collapse."

"It wasn't a cave in," James corrected as he shone his high powered flashlight around the walls. "Those scorch marks scattered on the walls are residue from discharged weapons."

"Perhaps this was from one of the attacks on the city my father had written about," Helen suggested and she joined them on the platform. "This entrance into the city must have been cut off before father led the remaining members of the city away."

"You said Gregory was here roughly sixty years ago," James countered. He was running his palm against a nearby wall and used his fingernails to scratch at the burned surface. "These burns are more recent. No older than forty years by my estimation."

"How could you possibly know that?" John argued.

"I'm that good," James smugly retorted. "Greatest detective that ever lived, remember?"

"Sherlock Holmes was the greatest _fictional_ detective that ever lived. Do try to remember you aren't a fictional sleuth but a flesh and blood know it all."

"I'm perfectly aware that I'm the real deal… and the basis for a legendary character that lives on to this day," James tossed over his shoulder as he moved further along the platform and descended the six damaged steps leading to the lower level.

Behind him, John made a gagging motion which caused Helen to roll her eyes. "Focus, gentleman," she gently reprimanded as she followed after Watson. "We need to stay alert and watch out for any traps." She had just placed the weight of her right foot onto the corner of the third step when a cracking noise sounded and Helen felt herself falling downward.

James whirled around at the sound of Helen's scream to behold that the stairs had all slanted forward and that a hole had appeared at the base of where the bottom step would have been. His cursed legs in their mechanical supports weren't fast enough to reach her.

She felt herself sinking down and heard her own scream for help. Her hands flailed out in an attempt to grab onto something to stop her fall when she felt a firm arm wrap around her waist and the familiar pulling sensation. James jumped as they reappeared beside him. Helen heard John's heavy breathing in her ear and felt his weight pressed against her as he held her tightly to him. She sagged against him panting lightly and closed her eyes muttering "Bloody hell!"

James leaned forward and observed the stairs reset themselves and the panel lift back up to cover the hole in the floor. "This was one of Gregory's traps?" he asked in a doubtful tone. "Somehow it doesn't seem right. Why would he set a deadly trap without giving us the opportunity to escape it?"

"He wouldn't," Helen assured. She took a deep breath in an attempt to get her racing heart under control and then went to move out of John's arms. She didn't get very far. His embrace was still tight and his left palm was clamped protectively over the center of her bulging stomach. "I'm alright," she insisted and patiently waited for him to release his hold. She knew from his harsh breathing that he was still rattled at the possibility of losing her and their unborn child down the trap door. "Darling, let go," she whispered when he continued to hang on. "We're alright. I promise."

He gave a loud sigh and released her. "Stay close by in case there are more of these booby traps."

"I'm sure there are," James interjected and pointed to a faint design scratched into the corner of the third step where Helen's foot had touched briefly before the trap was sprung.

"It looks like a trident," John remarked of the design.

"A warning to alert those who knew to look out for the symbol I expect. I suggest we avoid touching any more of these," James said and turned away to resume his inspection of the rubble littering their pathway.

"You think?" John retorted sarcastically as he trailed behind the pair. He decided the best course of action would be to allow James the lead with Helen in the middle and himself taking up the rear. That way he could best keep an eye on them should another unpleasant incident come their way. And he was pretty sure several more were coming.

A few minutes of sweeping their torches over the rock walls turned up another raised rock formation in the pattern of two circular rocks and a horizontal one. "Found it," Helen sang out and pressed the stones. Smiling as she felt a sweep of air move across her face as a section of the wall slide aside, Helen waited for the two men to flank each side of her before the trio entered the large circular room.

James had taken no more than five steps when the rock faced door sprang shut with a loud clang. The trio turned to stare at the door which was made of metal on the side they were now standing. "That can't be good," Watson murmured as he aimed his torch at the door. The metal looked thick and solid.

"It never is," John agreed and jumped along with his companions as low lights lit up eight shallow alcoves that circled the room. Each held an object centered in the space as if they were works of art.

James' eagle eyes scanned the objects as he made a quick tour around the rotunda. One golden tall urn had the trident symbol etched into the base of the arabesque handle. "Everything in the room is intact and in pristine condition. Odd contrast to the outer chamber."

Waving his hand about the room, John said, "Now this looks like a Gregory Magnus trap. One way in and no other obvious exit out."

"It is," Helen concluded with a wide grin and made her way towards one particular item in an alcove on the left.

"Recognize something?"James asked and stepped closer to observe at the dark object. "Ah," he murmured at the initials on the top of the item. "HM for Helen Magnus? That's a bit like cheating, isn't it?"

Giving him a sly smile she began to lean forward only to be pulled back. Without looking behind her, Helen rolled her eyes and instructed the father of her child to release her. "It's not a trap. This is the same device that was waiting for me in Bhalassam."

"Why would your father use the same device twice? That doesn't sound like him," John said skeptically with a shake of his head. The old man seemed to take pride in his clever traps and riddles.

"Things were a little tense between us before he left," she answered as she leaned forward to have her retina scanned. "I think this was his way of an apology. He's giving us an obvious clue to start our journey through the maze."

"Let's hope he's feeling as generous once we're inside his maze of death," John dryly remarked. He hadn't forgotten their narrow escape from the last time. Or the fact that Gregory blamed him for Helen's unhappiness in their youth. If the old man was going to try to bump him off this maze would be his best opportunity.

There was a long moment after the retina scan confirmed her identity. A panel slid back at the base of the scanner to reveal six slots with numbers that could be rolled up or down as needed. Helen smiled again and rolled up the appropriate number to spell out her mother's birthday, which was Gregory's favorite password. Soon after the swooshing sound of a nearby door sliding open drew their attention. "Thank you, father," she whispered in gratitude.

"So this is it?" James asked with an inclination of his head towards the opening. "The entrance into Gregory's jolly little game?"

"Yup," a pleased Helen answered. Despite the danger she knew they were about to face she couldn't help but also feel excited. They were so close to getting into the city and she was more than ready to finally be able to settle down into their temporary home. She had done her best to hide the fact that she was growing more tired with each day as the pregnancy dragged on and she just wanted to be able to have her baby in a safe, secure environment as soon as she was able. Her instincts told her that the baby would arrive before the nine month mark. Squaring her shoulders, she plodded forward eager to be done with the upcoming task.

Striding before her James quipped "Normally I would be all for ladies first but I think I'll make an exception in this case." John took his place behind her making sure he was no more than one stride's length from her while keeping on alert for any booby traps. Ordinarily she would have shoved both of them out of the way while thanking them for their unnecessary chivalrous gesture but given her delicate condition she was more than willing to allow the two men to serve as buffers for her unborn child.

Cautiously they entered an elongated chamber that was too wide to be a hallway and sloped downward at a gentle angle. Sconces on either side of the walls softly lit up space as they entered. James noted that the walls were textured like stucco, that there was no other ornamentation as far as he could discern with the naked eye, and that there was no other exit aside from the one they had entered through. Gregory's modus operandi was to usher a rat into the maze with the forward motion being the only option available so long as the rat lived to make it to the next level.

Planting her feet apart to better distribute her weight, Helen carefully made her way forward all the while cognizant of the large figure looming close behind. John had scooted closer to her and was ready to spring forward to grab her shoulder should she stumble or pitch forward. "I don't like this," John worriedly muttered as he continued to look from side to side as they made their way. "We're being herded like cattle into a chute. The walls are sloping inward at a ten degree angle."

"More like rats into a trap," James corrected.

"I think I'd rather be a steer," John absurdly commented, mostly as a distraction to keep his nerves under control. His instincts were telling him something was wrong and it was taking everything he had to stop from grabbing his companions and teleporting them out of this room. "More powerful than a measly rodent."

Watson could tell from Druitt's voice that he was uneasy and consented to engage in this ridiculous conversation to distract them both. "Steers are messy, too easy to manipulate, and make a most tasty meal," James quipped. "Rats on the other hand are fast, sneaky and could survive an atomic bomb. I doubt the species could ever be eradicated from existence. In the here and now we want to be rats, not steers."

"Rats? Steers?" Helen laughed. "Really, gentleman? This is the best conversation you can come up with?"

"You'd prefer we discuss how batty your father is? That he'd have to be somewhat twisted in order to come up with the deadly tasks he likes to put people through? And how does he even manage to create these tasks anyway, given his advanced age and walking with a cane? I mean, have you ever truly asked yourself how one old man can do what he's done?" John retorted and was rewarded with her stopping briefly to turn and give him a death glare. "Fine. You don't want to talk about Gregory. Let's discuss something more cheerful. What we are going to name our little bundle of joy? It will have to go with Druitt as the last name of course."

"What do you mean _of course_?" she grumbled and turned back round to follow after James. "Magnus is a perfectly excellent last name. I should know. It's been my last name for almost two centuries."

"Her father's last name is Druitt," he argued. "She should have her father's last name. It's only fair. You got to name the first one after yourself."

"Excuse me," she growled and whirled around to poke him in the chest. "I didn't GET to name Ashley anything! I gave her the only name I had… which was mine! If you wanted her to have your last name you should have stuck around and followed through on your promise to provide for us till death do us part!"

Agitated, he fisted his hands onto his hips and glared back at her. "You know every well I couldn't do that! I wasn't in complete control and Jack would have tried to murder you both if I had stayed. Leaving you behind was the only way to ensure you safety."

"I know that," she returned with a frown, "but it still pisses me off and I have every right to be angry about it. And I'm not going to apologize for it… EVER!"

"I am aware of that," he acknowledged, "and if I could have changed all of that I would have in a heartbeat. But I couldn't! And you know it."

"You know what pisses me off?" James groused loudly as he came to a halt before the solid wall in front of them. "Being stuck in this hell hole with the sorry likes of you two." He rubbed the side of his head which still suffered from a low, dull headache despite the ibuprofen he'd taken earlier. "Seriously. I must have been a right git in my former life to deserve being shackled to you two. A good century later and you're both still royal pains in my backside. Do you think you both could put a kibosh on your lovers quarrel until we can figure out how to get out of this mess preferable in one piece?"

"Sorry," they both grumbled in apology. At his eye roll at them, Helen added, "I'm pregnant. Baby hormones are to blame." She motioned to John with a nod of her head. "He's just an ass."

James burst out laughing at the startled look on the bigger man's face. "Focus, children," James reprimanded with a shake of his head after he got his laughter under control. How they managed to survive Oxford without him strangling the love birds was beyond him. "Our next task is at hand."

Together, the three stared the wall before them and tilted their heads back and forth trying to figure out what they were looking at. There was an unusual metallic sheen to this wall depending on the angle of viewing.

"What kind of stone is this?" John asked as he reached out to touch the surface. The second he made contact he felt a sharp burst of electricity shoot out from the wall and eject him backwards off his feet into the nearest wall. The last thing he heard was Helen crying out his name before he collapsed onto the ground and blacked out.

"John!" Helen cried and lowered herself the best she could down next to him. His large backpack had taken most of the weight of his body as it crashed into wall thus protecting his head from full direct impact. She felt his neck for a pulse and huffed out a loud breath of relief. He was alive but out cold. A darkening spot near his upper shoulder alarmed her until she touched it and realized it was water leaking from his cracked water bottle. "John," she said as she tried to rouse him, "wake up. Please."

"Better make it fast," James called out.

"Why?" Helen asked as she shook John by the shoulders.

"The trap's been sprung."

Annoyed, she griped back, "English please!"

"The walls are closing in on us. Literally," he declared and continued what he was doing.

Jarred, she resorted to a more forceful method of rousing the unconscious man. John groaned loudly following the firm slap he received across the cheek. "Wake up, John! We're in trouble." When he only groaned and shifted his head further into his shoulder, she threatened, "John! I'm leaving you for Nikola. We're eloping. What do you think about that?"

"What?!" John growled and opened one eye to glare at her.

"Ah, you're awake," she sighed in relief. "Good. Now get up. We're in danger."

Pushing himself up on his elbows he continued to glower at her. "You're leaving me for that idiot Tesla? Did I hear that correctly?"

"I only said that to shock you awake. Now help me up," she demanded as the very pregnant doctor struggled to get up without falling over. Her large, round stomach was really screwing with her balance.

"That is not funny, woman," he grumbled as he sat upright for a long moment to get his bearings before standing up and leaning over to help her to her feet.

"It certainly isn't," James muttered under his breath. He was about as fond of Tesla as Druitt was.

"Stop pouting and focus," she demanded and pried free the hand that was gripping her right shoulder tight. "The walls are closing in on us and we need to get out of this room."

Releasing her, John swiveled his head around the room and realized she was right. The back part of the room was getting darker by the moment as the wall closed in on them. It was then that he realized why he was feeling off. Turning back to her with wide eyes, he hissed, "There's an EM shield! I can't teleport!"

"What!" she gasped in alarm. His teleporting ability was their ace in the hole should they get trapped.

"It must have activated when John set the task into motion," James answered calmly as he continued working out the puzzle in his mind. "I'd say we have a good, oh, three minutes before we're flattened like pancakes."

His two companions rejoined him by the lit up wall which now displayed various symbols scattered across its surface. "This must be your challenge," Helen surmised and gave him a smack on the arm at his snicker of "Brilliant deduction, Dr. Magnus. Good to know that Oxford degree didn't go to waste."

"Smart aleck," she shot back. "I hope you're putting _your _Oxford degree to good use and solving this puzzle soon. Do you even know what you're looking at?" A few of the symbols looked vaguely familiar but in her panicked state she couldn't quite recall what they were. She just knew they had to get out of the space quickly.

"I think I've almost got it," James muttered as he continued to squint at the wall. "And you need to have that baby soon. Those hormones are making you even more prone to physical inclinations than ever."

John, who was facing the opposite way, growled, "Think faster, man. We've got less than seven feet left." The three shed their packs and tucked them flat at the base of the stable wall in order increase their moving room.

"I'll show you more prone to physical inclinations if my daughter is squished in any way," she fussed as she agitatedly shifted her focus between the puzzle wall and the back wall closing in on them. "Hurry, James!"

"Nag, nag, nag," Watson complained as he finally leaned forward to touch one of the digital symbols and drag it down to the far left. "Genius cannot be rushed."

"The hell it can't," Helen barked. "You sound just like Nikola."

"Hey, there's no call for insults," he cracked.

John, who was on the other side of Helen, was trying to push back the enclosing wall. He groaned as his head banged onto the wall behind him while he positioned his feet and hands push to against the moving wall. "Your genius is about to be splattered everywhere if you don't solve Gregory's death trap now! So solve it, Sherlock!"

"Oh stop squawking like a little girl," James taunted him. "You're a legendary mad man. Buck up. Better yet, remember you're English and put up that stiff upper lip!" He then began to quickly move the other symbols into the correct sequence, only stopping briefly as he heard Helen squeak in fear and try to press herself closer to the wall he was working on. "Move your stomach over," he ordered. "I need room for the last two pieces."

"I can barely move!" she hissed back as she scooted further away and dug her heels into the ground trying to prevent the wall from pressing in closer as she pushed with her hands onto the moving wall. She gave a loud gasp as her protruding stomach touched the front wall and tried to suck in her stomach as best she could. If James didn't get the last piece into its correct place in the next sixty seconds her child was going to be crushed, along with the rest of them. But the baby would be injured first and the terrified mom to be felt tears began to well up in her eyes. Please, please don't hurt my baby she prayed.

Huffing, James struggled to push the final piece into its slot. Helen's stomach was in the way and he had to shove his hand past it to drop the piece in.

"Hand!" Helen groaned uncomfortably as the pressure on her stomach increased.

"I'm trying to remove it but your belly's in the way!" James answered as he pulled on his arm to retrieve it from being squeezed by the top of Helen's rounded stomach.

"That isn't my stomach!" Helen huffed back.

"Pardon!" James apologized in embarrassment. Helen's stomach wasn't the only part of her that had grown larger and rounder.

"If we survive this I'm going to throttle your father!" John promised fervently as he continued to try holding back the crushing wall with little effect.

"He's only doing what I asked…" she defended and was cut off as the three of them cried out in pain from the pressure.


	51. Return to Avalon Part 4

Chapter 51: Return to Avalon Part 4

"He's only doing what I asked…" she defended and was cut off as the three of them cried out in pain from the pressure. Just when she thought she wouldn't be able to take anymore there was a loud series of clicking noises and the moveable wall suddenly stopped and slowly retracted back into place.

"Bloody hell," James groaned as he slumped against the wall.

"Seconded," John agreed. Turning his head, he saw that Helen had slid down onto the ground and was resting against the wall panting. Her shaking hands were crossed over her stomach protectively and there were two bright tears sliding down her cheeks. "Helen," he softly called out and kneeled down next to her. "Are you alright? Is the baby okay?"

Still shaken, she merely nodded her response. Her child had almost been killed and it would have been her fault. She was the one who had asked Gregory to booby trap entry into the city. She had completely underestimated how close they would come to true peril.

"Are you sure you both are okay?" he insisted as he reached over and wiped away the tear on her right cheek.

"No," she replied hoarsely. "But I will be. Just give me a moment." She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to calm her racing heart.

"I hate your father," he muttered under his breath. The old man almost succeeded in murdering them all in one fell swoop and he was most likely only trying to kill Druitt given the fact that he'd set an EM field to activate once they were trapped inside.

"I think the feeling is mutual," James chimed in helpfully on the other side of Helen.

"Brown noser," John retorted. It would forever annoy him that Gregory would always prefer Watson over him as suitor for his precious daughter.

"Lumbering ox," James volleyed back, knowing exactly why his best friend was so grouchy when it came to Helen's father.

Her heart rate slowly returning to normal speed, Helen eyed both men from the corner of her eyes and said, "How old are you two exactly?"

"Old enough," they laughed in unison.

"That's debatable," she grumbled. Leaning to the side she grabbed her backpack and dragged it to her. Pulling out the water bottle she uncapped it and took several swallows of the refreshing liquid while waiting for her heartbeat to return to normal. James also took the opportunity to refuel and John discovered much to his chagrin that his water bottle was not only punctured but had leaked through the front pouch where it had been housed. She passed her bottle to him and dug around in her pack to see what food was available. A smile lit up on her dirt smudged face as she discovered a small plastic baggie with four quartered pickle spears. Pulling one out, she asked "What was that puzzle you were working on?" as she happily munched down on her treat.

"It took a bit to refresh my memory," James confessed with a little self conscious smile. "Lucky for us I remembered that symbol for Maximilian."

"Who's Maximilian?" she questioned before munching down on the next pickle spear.

"It was a little story your father once told me. A long time ago. Rather reluctantly at that. The puzzle here was one of the early lines in the story. Gregory selected it knowing that I would be the only one to recall it."

"Yes, you're special that way," John snarked. "Meanwhile, how do we get out of here," he asked after finishing off the water and tossing the empty bottle aside.

Pointing at the wall where the original door was located, James answered "I expect the same way we came in."

"That's it?" the other man said with a dubious look.

James gave a shrug. "What were you expecting? Fireworks? A big neon sign that says 'Exit this way'?"

"I was expecting something more dramatic, like Bhalassam."

"So sorry to disappoint," James snickered. "We probably have a flare or two in our packs. I can light one up for you if it makes the experience more thrilling. You could wave it like a sparkler." Both he and Helen chuckled.

Standing up, John retorted "Oh, shut up you twit. You wouldn't be this cheerful if you knew what happens to you in Bhalassam."

"John," Helen warned, giving him a stern glare and a shake of her head.

"He's going to find out sooner or later," the frazzled taller man defended. "Why not tell him sooner to prepare him for the worst. "

"Worst?" James repeated as he stared from one to the other suspiciously. At the guilty look on her face and the apologetic one on John's, Watson's jaw clenched tight as he realized what Druitt was talking about and he turned a deer in the headlights look onto the pregnant woman still seated on the ground.

"James," she hesitantly said, "this isn't the time or place to get into this. We can discuss this later."

"No, I'd rather discuss it now," the angry man shot back as he pushed himself away from the wall to glare down at her with crossed arms. "When were you going to tell me I die at Bhalassam?"

"In a bit," Helen responded with a deep sigh. Putting her hands out around her she slowly pushed herself up to her knees and carefully rose to her feet. She tried to shrug John off as he swooped in to help her up but he ignored the annoyed glare she aimed at him and waited until she was safely standing again before he stepped away. Facing her accuser, Helen bit her bottom lip before stating, "Look, James, I was going to tell you what happens when we all reunite to face our enemy in five years time… after we've had a chance to settle into our temporary home and I've had the baby. And when you've had a chance to come to grips with the idea of your impending death."

Narrowing his eyes, James reminded her that the deal they had made a century ago included preventing him from dying. "Not preventing you from dying," Helen corrected.

"What!" the angry man bellowed as he pointed at her. "That was not our deal. I agreed to help you save your daughter and a few select others and you agreed to keep me from pushing up daises."

"You still have to die… at least as far as the rest of the world is concerned," she reminded him again. Although in all fairness it had been a century since they'd last spoken of this and James was now a very old man. His memory, legendary though it was, was still bound to fail now and then.

He rolled his eyes and fluttered his hand in the air as if he were waving something away. "Oh, right. The whole I have to die to be reborn thing."

"Not reborn," Helen retorted as she swept by him toward the exit. "Revived. There's a difference."

John trailed in her wake with a smirk on his face. "See, everything will be fine. Nothing to get your knickers in a twist about."

"Let me guess," James said flatly. "You have a plan."

"I do," she cheerfully called over her shoulder as she activated the spot to open the door and walked through the doorway.

Shoulders deflating, James followed after them. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"My dear boy, whatever would give you that idea?" John sniggered and teleported to the other side of the door before James's well aimed kick could hit him in the back of the knee.

"You can't run forever, you git," the annoyed Englishmen muttered under his breath. A few steps outside the doorway he found the pair waiting for him by the ledge. The hallway that had originally led into the chamber with the trap was gone. Instead, they had exited out onto a short path that wrapped around their side of the mountain. Before them, in the dim light, was a wide chasm across which was what appeared to be an enormous rocky incline on the inside of the mountain. The chasm itself served as a deep moat to separate the two sections. There were numerous dark spots in the incline that could be cave entrances. "I take it that's where we're headed?" Watson surmised.

Pointing to the top of the incline, Helen replied, "Up there actually. Notice the reflection of the stone is paler in appearance."

"Avalon," the two men said in unison and grinned at one another.

Smiling herself, Helen laid her right palm on John's chest and tilted her face up to meet his eyes. "Your turn. Please try to land us gently on the other side."

"As you wish," he bowed his head low and reached up with one hand to cover hers. "I promise not to jostle our little one. First I want to zip over there to check out the terrain alone and make sure it's safe. I'll be right back."

She surprised him by griping his shirt to hold him in place. "We have to go as a group. Father will have set the security to expect the three of us. If we don't arrive together I believe another far more fatal trap will be activated."

"More fatal than being flattened between two stone walls? Did I mention I hate your father?" John said with a frown. At her pleading look he sighed and shot out his other arm to grab Watson by the coat and ignored the indignant glare James aimed at him. An instant later they reappeared in the mouth of the largest cave entrance near the upper region of the incline. Upon closer inspection they discovered it was not so much a cave entrance as an outer courtyard made of smooth white stone. Before them was an arched walkway with a central square entrance that had an ornate, carved lintel and heavy, petrified wood posts flanking the double bronze doors.

Gingerly the trio approached the doors while keeping an eye out for booby traps. Helen reached for the door knobs only to discover them locked and groaned "Really?" No keypad of any type was to be found.

"Allow me," James offered and pulled out a lock picking kit from his backpack. After examining the ancient lock he selected an odd looking tool with a slanted head from his kit.

"You're carrying a lock picking kit with you?" John asked in surprise.

"We're breaking into a long lost city," James brightly explained as he focused his right eye for a better view and fiddled with the ancient lock. "I thought it might come in handy. And naturally I was correct."

Crossing his arms, John leaned against the post and gave a small laugh. "You are such a nerd." Helen, who was standing before him, gave him a small jab in the stomach with her elbow.

"Don't be a jealous just because I'm brilliant," James joked back as he turned the tool a fraction to the right and grinned as he heard the faint clicking of the lock's release. "I'm sure you some sort of hidden talent of your own if you dig deep enough. Perhaps you could serve as a scarecrow with that big goofy face of yours. I could loan you a straw hat."

"Bite me," John grumbled.

"I'll pass, thank you. You probably have rabies," James smirked back and pushed the double doors open. "Shall we?"

"We shall," Helen smiled and tucked one arm through his offered one while holding out her other arm to the father of her child.

Sliding his arm through hers he groused "If either of you start singing 'We're off to see the wizard' I'm shoving you off the cliff. Fair warning." He frowned as the two chuckled at him. They had barely made it past the doorway when a red beam of light projected from both interior door posts and began scanning them.

"Uh oh," James uttered as they all froze in place. Once the scan was complete a little red symbol appeared before them. They waited for something else to happen and when nothing did James reached up to touch the floating icon. At his wondering aloud what it meant Helen gave him a dimpled smile and replied "Icaru. It means blood demon."

"Blood demon?" James asked with a raised brow. "That can't be good."

"In our case it's excellent," she explained. "It means that the security system has been set to detect the trace amount of Source Blood in us. When it found what it was programmed to search for it allowed us safe entry. We'll need to locate the security system and reprogram it to allow other authorized persons entry."

"So that's the first task, is it?" James stated with a little twinkle in his eyes. It had been quite a while since he'd been this excited and surprised at the same time. He'd finally found and entered the lost city after years of searching for it on his own and he couldn't wait to explore it.

Spying a wide inviting bench about twenty feet away, Helen sat down and rested her aching feet on their heels. "Actually I need a few minutes rest. And lunch."

"You just ate a snack not 5 minutes ago," James teased her. "You keep this up and you won't fit back through the door when we return."

"Hey, I'm expecting! Don't be mean," she reprimanded him as she dropped her backpack next to her and began pulling little sacks of food and her thermos out. "This child is like a bottomless pit. She's always hungry."

"Ah, so she takes after her father. Pity," James tssked with a shake of his head. "Let's hope she doesn't inherit his big feet and hands."

"Bite your tongue," Helen laughed and threw at potato chip at him. The two men watched in amusement as she spread out the treats Lucy had packed for her and began eating a little bit of each item. John decided to followed suit and sat down to her left. He was grateful for the plastic bagging that kept his sandwich and crisps from becoming soggy due to the spilt water.

For Watson the only thing whetted was his appetite for discovery. He declined their invitation to join them and declared his intention to find the security system's headquarters. At Helen's request that he proceed with caution and not stray too far away he gave a polite nod and said, "Yes. Mother." Turning away he called over his shoulder, "I won't be too long. Meanwhile, rest those delicate feet of yours. They're still swollen from all the shopping yesterday, aren't they?"

He disappeared down a flight of stone steps before the startled woman could reply. How the heck did he know her feet were killing her? She'd done her best to hide the fact that she was suffering. Sometimes his sharp awareness of everything around him was downright annoying. At John's accusing look she sighed. "I'm fine. Swollen feet are a normal part of a woman's pregnancy."

"But shopping for hours and then wandering around a ruined rock city isn't," he chided as he stole a thin slide of her banana bread.

"Hey," she cried as she smacked his hand, "no touching the pregnant woman's food."

"I know, I know," he grinned as he woofed down the treat before she could swipe it back. "Golden Rule #3. The sweets are only for my sweet."

Sticking her tongue out at him she declared, "That's weak. You spouted better romantic turn of phrases when we were young and clueless."

"Alright," he purred. "How about 'She walks in beauty, like the night; Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright; Meet in her aspect and her eyes…"

"Like I haven't heard that one before," she interrupted with a snort and took a bite out of the apple slice in her hand. As far as she could remember there had been at least two dozen men who had tried that poem on her in the hopes of getting lucky. A few of the better ones did she thought with a little smile.

Noting the smile John pulled back and shot a death glare at her. "Not from me you haven't," he growled roughly.

"Oh," she mumbled and bit the bottom of her lip. "Awkward." At his continued silence and sulking she added "Tell me something romantic and from the heart. Something only you would say to me." He continued to glare at her. "Please," she pleaded and batted her dark lashes at him.

Silently eyeing her he tried to decide whether he wanted to continue being mad at her or to woo her senseless. "John," she purred, "we are sitting alone among the ruins of an ancient city and I am carrying our second child. Can you not think of one romantic thing to say to me?"

The hard expression on his face softened and he shook his head at her. "You are a brat."

"I hardly call that romantic," she pouted. "I asked you to say something romantic, not to insult me," she grumbled and rose to move away from him. Though she had no right to feel angry at him given the fact that she had just reminded him that she had been with other men while they were apart, she still felt like belting him one for his unfavorable comment. She might still do it. One of the nice things about being pregnant was that one could blame odd or erratic behavior on the unborn child with little recourse.

His hand shot out to grab her wrist and pull her to stand between his legs. Looking up at her he took in her pouty expression and a little smile spread across his lips. Even when she was sulking she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. And she was his. Locking his hands around her back to keep her in place, he pledged in his melodious voice that "I will love you for all eternity. I will strive to make you very happy. I will love our children for all eternity. And I will swiftly and with extreme prejudice destroy anyone or anything that tries to harm you or our family."

Touched at his genuine, heartfelt words her annoyance with him slipped away and she cupped the right side of his face. "That, Montague John Druitt, is the most romantic thing you have ever said to me. I would show you my true appreciation for your beautiful words but such public display might cause James to go into cardiac arrest should he walk in on us," she declared, causing him to chuckle, "so you will just have to settle for a kiss until such time as we are truly alone and I can more passionately show you how your words have affected me."

Thrilled his words had brought about such a strong reaction in her he eagerly accepted his reward of a deep, warm kiss from his beloved. They broke apart when the need for air overcame them and both laughed as their daughter kicked firmly against his arm. Rubbing over the spot where his child had kicked John softly cooed, "Hello, my luv. Having fun on our little adventure?"

Gasping, Helen covered her side with a hand and cried, "Ow! Not so hard you little stinker. That's mummy's ribs you're kicking."

"Our little princess seems to have inherited her parent's adventurous nature," he appraised as he pulled her onto his lap, "as well as our skills for self defense."

"Well I'd appreciate if she refrains from the martial art moves until after she is born," Helen fussed at her stomach. "This is your mummy speaking, young lady. Be nice in there. I know you're running out of room but I'd appreciate you not breaking any ribs or playing bounce on my spleen or kidneys."

"Breaking any ribs?" John repeated with concern.

"It can happen," she informed her surprised partner. "It's not fun and I will not be pleasant to deal with should that occur."

"Do not harm your mother," John commanded his unborn child. "Your father is ordering you to be nice to mummy." He looked pleased as the baby kicked again, this time towards the center of Helen's stomach. "Good girl," he praised and rubbed over the spot.

Helen sighed. "As pleasant as our little respite has been we'd better go find James and explore our new digs."

"Alright," he agreed, going in for one last kiss. "There's no telling what Sir Picks–a-Lock is up to. He's probably going around trying to find any locked doors or vaults to break into. I don't think he's had a good challenge like this in quite some time. He was grinning like a mad Cheshire cat when he left."

"Hmmm," she pondered as she stood back up and cleaned up the remains of her repast. Happily she still had a small sack of lemon cookies for later. "His time in the field has greatly decreased as his body has aged. He spends most of his time reading, researching and looking at samples in the lab under microscope. This is probably like Christmas day for him. We're lucky he didn't shove us out of the way in his haste to go exploring."

"He's wearing a weather beaten hat, carrying the ultimate in lock picking gadgetry and on the lookout for hidden symbols carved into the stone walls and floor. He's probably feeling like he's Indiana Jones," John mused with a little chuckle. "Let's hope he doesn't set off any rolling rocks or poisoned arrows in his enthusiasm." Standing up, he handed Helen her backpack and then slung his over his shoulder. Giving her a serious look, he hesitantly asked, "You do have a good plan for saving him, right?"

"I do," she solemnly promised.

"He's not going to like it very much, is he?" he guessed as he fell into step by her side.

"Not likely. I'm not overly eager about it either," she confessed as they began to descend the stairs. "But he's one of us. He'll suck it up and carry on."

"One thing we're good at is sucking it up and carrying on," John agreed.

"We're also good at improvising," she added in self satisfaction. "And once we've got the security situation under control our next assignment is to locate housing and, more importantly, a safe place for the nursery. I don't think I can put off my need for nesting much longer."

He grinned. "You just want to do more shopping," he teased.

"Of course I want to do more shopping. Lots of shopping in fact," she answered as if he were being silly. "You have no idea how much stuff babies require." She paused at the bottom of the steps to turn and smirk at him. "But you will soon enough. Don't say you weren't warned."

Stepping down next to her he smirked back. "The more you try to alarm me concerning babies and their related material the more excited I become. I have waited a very, very long time to have my family."

"It's strange to be having another child after so long," she admitted. "I had decided after Ashley was born that she would be my only child."

"Was she that much of a handful?" he inquired. He could clearly see a young tomboyish Ashley terrorizing the household as a toddler as she rushed about their home with her various toys and bikes.

"Of course she was a handful," Helen laughed as she looked around trying to decide which of the three hallways to go down. "But she was also perfect in every way and I saw no reason to tempt fate. I had the perfect child I always wanted and by the father I wanted."

He stopped her from going into the hallway to the left and pulled her back to him. "That, Helen Magnus, is one of the most romantic things you have ever said to me." He leaned in to kiss his giggling mate only to hear, "Oh, good god. Are you two at it again?"


	52. Home Sweet Home Part 1

Chapter 52: Home Sweet Home Part 1

"Where have you been?" she demanded and pulled away from her amorous partner. "I was starting to get worried."

"Yes, you looked really worried," he snorted back. "I've been working, unlike you two lazy lumps."

"Did you find anything worthwhile?" John inquired and wasn't surprised at the smirk that appeared on the other man's face.

Pointing a finger at him, she warned, "That lump comment better not be in regards to my physical appearance, James Watson."

"My dear Helen, I would never make a derogatory comment about an expectant mother's physical appearance. I am a gentleman." He then winked at her. "All other times, however, all bets are off."

She laughed. "You're in a very good mood. Found something big, have you?"

"Several things, in fact," he answered and motioned for them to follow him down the central hallway. "The security system for this site, which by the way is weirdly still operational given how long it's been dormant; the city's library, which while a mess and littered with debris, is still in good shape; and an excellent map of the city with all of its important services and structures detailed," he easily rattled off as he lead the way.

Both of his companions lit up at the mention of a library. "There's something else," James teased them with as they made their way down two more levels. "You might recognize it."

John was reminded of Helen's beloved Sanctuary as they made their way. The exterior of the city that they'd seen earlier was rough and barren. Inside, the walls and floors were of smoothed stone that had been white washed and there was a definite order and symmetry to the place. And a certain beauty as well. There were carved niches with small inlaid mosaic works and ornate details carved into the walls. Whereas Praxis could be described as highly futuristic and sleek looking, Avalon was elegant and more aligned to a human scale.

Helen noted that much of the areas they'd moved through so far were in good shape with only some rubble and dust scattered about. She gave a small gasp of surprise as they approached a heavy wooden door with a highly polished frame and the word "The Library" in Latin to the door's right.

"Latin?" John said with a confused look. "I was expecting more exotic symbols such as we'd seen earlier. Latin's so ordinary… at least for the likes of us."

"There are symbols around," James informed them, "but Latin seems to be the main language used," he said as he pushed the massive door open and entered.

"Well, I suppose that's good for us," Helen stated with equal confusion as John. "The Praxian language was very difficult to decipher. We'd barely scratched the surface before I walked back into Victorian England courtesy of Adam and his time machine."

They stepped into the messy and littered library. Books and papers were scattered everywhere and the room looked as if it had gone through an earthquake. Watson walked to the far wall which had numerous tall, thin windows inserted and suggested they take a gander. The pair's mouths dropped open as they looked out. The side of the city they had entered had been slanted and bare. The side they were looking out onto now was terraced and spectacular. There had to be at least ten levels down and despite the damage they could see at the lower levels the view was breath taking in a beautiful haunted kind of way. The light color of the stone seemed to give off a soft glow and the quiet hush that surrounded them seemed as if the city were a sleeping giant waiting for the morning light to awaken it. Helen gave a little sigh and absently rested her hand on her stomach. Her baby would be safe here. The city curved around in a c-shape with the rough mountain wall closing it off to create a large oval center. Dim light flitted down from above and three stared up at the domed ceiling. On the lowest levels appeared to be trees, heavily overgrown brush and plant life and a shallow moving river that slowly snaked around the perimeter of the city.

"Is that light coming from outside the mountain," John asked as he tilted his head as far as he could against the glass for a better look. "There's no obvious holes in the ceiling but there must be holes to the outside somewhere."

"Something to explore," James agreed happily. At Helen's pointing to a series of thin pillared walkways that stepped down from certain levels James answered, "I believe those are aqueducts. Slimmer, more refined ones than the ancient Roman ones still in existence around Europe. I suspect the light above is coming from well angled tunnels cut into the ceiling to allow fresh water to come into the city." His surprised friends turned to stare at him.

"First Latin, now aqueducts," John remarked. "We're on the west side of North America. Why would the inhabitants of this place have such an affinity for things Roman?"

"Perhaps its founders were of European descent," the sleuth offered. "That might explain the name."

"Avalon?" Helen said. "I just assumed it was in deference to the Avalon of Arthurian legend."

A little smile pulled at the corner of Watson's mouth. "That's not what I was referring to." He stepped away from the pair and walked to a far corner that was in the worst condition. "I found a scroll sticking out under him," he declared as he nodded toward the bundle near his foot. "He was either trying to hide it in a hurry or protect it when the column collapsed on him."

"Him?!" the other two repeated in unison.

"Is that a body?" a shocked Druitt cried.

"You said there had been attacks on the city. There was bound to be bodies," James calmly remarked with a shrug. "I expect we'll find more on the lower levels."

Coming closer, Helen noted the faded beauty of the now threadbare robe the skeleton was wearing. "He must have been a cleric," she guessed.

"Or a powerful official," James countered. At her question as to the location of the scroll, James nodded towards the other side of the room which was in better condition. Seeing a scroll unfurled upon a large wooden table an excited Helen quickly crossed the room for a better view.

"This is amazing," John remarked as he looked over her shoulder. Stepping to the side, he moved closer and leaned forward. "How old do you think this document is?"

"At least 150 years is my guess," James noted. "We'll get a better idea after Lucy's had a chance to review it. My little darling is going to be gob smacked when she sees this place. I'm going to have a hard time convincing her to go back to school when her winter break is over."

Waving her hands around Helen wondered aloud "It's hard to believe this place isn't older."

James smirked. "Who says it isn't? This map was probably drawn up at a later date, after the city was well established and stable."

"What makes you say that?" Helen returned. She knew that look on Watson's face. It was his I know something you don't know look.

His only response was to point out a small red stamp at the bottom corner of the scroll's beginning. Helen's head whipped up to stare at him in surprise. He nodded solemnly at her. "Who was this Maximilian person again?" she asked.

James sighed and pulled out a chair to sit down. He was suddenly feeling his age and his legs needed to rest for a while. Dropping his backpack onto the table he pulled out his water bottle and took several deep swallows. Helen sat down in the chair John had pulled out for her and he sat down to her right and both waited patiently for Watson's response. They exchanged glances briefly, both thinking the same thing - that Watson's age was wearing thin on his lean body.

Sighing again, James sat back in his chair and stretched. "A few years after we started working with Gregory he was called away one night to a far corner of London. He was recovering from two broken ribs and had his arm in a sling and frankly wasn't well enough to travel."

"I remember that," Helen interrupted. "He wouldn't allow me accompany him and refused to tell me where he was going."

James nodded. "I caught up with him outside and insisted on accompanying him. He didn't like it but given his weakened state he was in no condition to argue. We set off in a carriage that weaved in and out of numerous narrow roads and eventually I became disoriented where we were going. Looking back, I think he did it on purpose and had his driver take side roads to confuse me."

"Sneaky," John murmured. "Sounds like Gregory to me." He tried to look apologetic when she shot him an annoyed look for slighting her father but she wasn't buying it.

"Anyway," James continued as he opened his bag of crisps and munched on one, "we ended up attending to a family of abnormals the likes of which I had not seen before. Or since really. They appeared to be mostly human until the light hit their eyes at a certain angle and the pupils took on a reddish tint. Similar to how Siamese cats blue eyes can appear red in certain light. I also observed that one had sharp canines when she argued vigorously with your father.

"So they were cat people?" John concluded with a little laugh. "Bet you wished you'd brought catnip with you."

"I think part vampire was more like it," James replied, shocking the pair. "Not in the pure ancient form or like Nikola but there was something about the way these people moved that was stealthy and dangerous at the same time. They made Gregory visibly uneasy." He paused in his recounting and raised an eyebrow at Helen and John as both stole one of his chips.

"Eating for two," she apologized as she savored the salty treat.

"And your excuse?" James demanded.

"Didn't want to be left out," John said with a shrug and circled his finger to denote the other man needed to speed up his story. "We need to locate living quarters before we can return to the cabin," he reminded the pair. "It's getting late. Get on with your story, old boy."

Annoyed, James continued with his tale. "It was obvious Gregory and the others were uncomfortable with my presence. He also seemed reluctant to help the family. I heard the mother hiss lowly that Gregory had to help them, that it was his duty given _who_ he was. She then furiously mentioned 'the Seven Elders' and pointed to symbol on a framed text on the wall saying he owed it to Maximilian. That seemed to make Gregory angry and resigned to help them at the same time. It was very odd. I dismissed it at the time as being none of my business but looking back I think it was important."

"Important how?" Helen sharply questioned. She eyed his chips wanting more and gave him a little triumphant smile when he pushed the bag closer to her to grab another one.

"You need to have that child," he repeated. "You keep eating this way and you're likely to pop like a balloon."

"I'm working on it," she returned as she helped herself. "Perfection takes time. Now back to your recounting."

"The moment Gregory stepped into the room they seemed to defer to him, almost like he was royalty or the like. They kept calling him 'Sir' and bowed several times."

"They wanted his help," she reminded him. "They were probably being polite and showing him respect to encourage his cooperation."

"I think it was more than that," James shook his head. "Anyway, he requested that I wait outside, which I did for quite some time. Later, when we returned to the carriage I noticed that Gregory had his left hand in a bandage and was carrying the framed text, though he had tried to cover it was his scarf. When I asked to see the text he said it was just some old book page they had given him in exchange for his help. I kept nagging him about it and eventually he allowed me to see it briefly. He translated the first small section of the text which talked about the seven elders who were brothers that went on to do amazing things and established empires around the world. Maximilian was the oldest."

Brown creased, Helen pondered how her father and this elder person were connected. James could see it in her eyes and continued his story. "I wanted to take a closer look at the page. There was something special about it and your father's reaction to it piqued my interest." Pausing when John gave a loud snort, he waited for his old classmate to make a snide remark about curiosity killing the cat or mention his favorite appellation of "Snoopy Pants" to annoy him. No smart response forthcoming, he proceeded. "Early the next morning I quietly entered Gregory's office, after the housekeeper had assured me that he was still asleep upstairs. It wasn't like Gregory to sleep in but I had hoped he'd still be asleep given how exhausted he had looked the night before. I couldn't find it anywhere among his papers on or in his desk. I was about to begin looking through his bookshelves when I detected a faint smell of burnt paper."

"He burnt the text?" a surprised Helen asked. Her father loved old and rare texts. It was not in his nature to destroy things unless he felt them to be dangerous.

James confirmed with a nod of his head. "I found a tiniest piece of the document had escaped the fire. It was a section of the symbol for Maximilian."

"We keep coming back to old Max," John mused as he drummed his fingers on the table.

"Yes, we do," the other man agreed. "Which begs the question… what is his connection to Gregory Magnus?"

"Well, don't look at me," Helen answered. "I had never heard of Maximilian or the Seven Elders until today." She suddenly lifted her hand over her mouth as she gave loud yawn. "We need to find suitable living quarters," she commanded and yawned again. "It's getting late." Pulling the map closer she poised her finger over it and pointed to a section. "Let's take a look at this area." It was in the opposite direction of the library and two floors above.

"Alright," John nodded and went to stand up but halted when Watson held up a hand.

"Just one more question before we resume our task," he hesitantly said as he stared at Helen. "How old exactly was your father?"

Brows creased in confusion she stared back at him like he had two heads. "I don't know exactly," she answered slowly. "Father was considerably older than mum when they married, by at least 18 years I think. I guess he'd be about 202 years old now, give or take a few years. He always dodges the age question with a vague answer of 'Old enough.'"

"202 years old now?" James repeated and quickly sat upright. "I thought Gregory was dead. Helen…" he shook his head, "I mean the other Helen and I thought he died decades ago abroad during one of his exploration trips." He motioned to the room around them. "He was supposed to have done this what, sixty years ago? Which was around the time he was believed to have died."

"I did believe that," she assured him. "It wasn't until I found him in the warehouse used for illegal underground abnormal fighting that I learned he was still alive. He had no idea who I was or who he really was. The Cabal had brainwashed him using another abnormal to control him."

"The Cabal?" James asked and could tell by the hardening of both his friends' eyes that there was deep hatred for this group. "That's who is responsible all the upcoming deaths, isn't it?"

She and John exchanged glances before she answered. "Yes," she responded, "but you need to forget that fact for a time." She leaned in closer and placed her hand over his. "James, it's important you don't mention them or act as though you're too aware of the organization for the next three and a half years. We can't afford to tip our hand in case they alter their actions and become unpredictable. It's important that things happen the way we know them to if we want to have the upper hand when the time comes to save those that we can."

He didn't look too happy about it but nodded in consent. "Also," John added, "until we are able to revive you following Bhalassam we cannot answer your questions regarding what happened to me and how I recovered. It could be dangerous should Jack realize you know the truth and decide to eliminate you."

James noted that Druitt once again referred to "Jack" as a separate entity. Perhaps he'd had a split personality like Adam and Helen had somehow been able to integrate the two personalities back into one with John being the dominant persona in control. Course, that meant that Jack could always reemerge, despite John and Helen's assurances that that could not happen since he was on medication now. It gave him some concern for the Cutter children's safety. "Fine," he shrugged, "I won't ask or discuss about the Cabal nor will I ask about Jack. However, I do have one last question about Gregory."

"What's that?" a relieved Helen asked. Things had gotten a bit tense and she was more than happy to change the subject.

"You believe your father to be over two hundred years old," James stated seriously. "How is that even possible?"

"I don't know," Helen confessed sheepishly. "It must have been connected to whatever the Cabal had done to him."

"Or," John interjected, "he could have taken an alternate route like us by taking the Source Blood himself." When his companions turned to stare at him, he said, "Surely that thought has occurred to you over the years, Helen. You got the blood from him originally. You took it on the sly despite his hiding it and warning you not to touch it. Perhaps it was his secret to living so long, just like you. You both share the same genetic makeup and it is not unreasonable to think that your bodies would react in the same manner."

It was his turn to be surprised by the stunned look on her face which told him she'd never even considered that possibility.

"I have another explanation," James offered helpfully. "Is it possible he's one of these Seven Elders the abnormal family had mentioned? Is it possible he's related to this Maximilian?"

Helen sighed. She really didn't want to delve into the Magnus family secrets and turn up information she didn't really want to know. She was already suppressing the secret that Rana was her half-sister. "That's absurd. Father is not some centuries old mythical being." She forced herself to stand, thus bringing the conversation to an end. "As interesting as this discussion is, we really need to get moving. I have a nursery to create." Grabbing the map, she stomped out of the room.

The two men looked at one another and frowned in unison. Gregory Magnus was Helen's Achilles heel and something had obviously shifted between them following that meeting at John's cottage decades ago. They quickly got to their feet to follow her. "Either way, there's something off about Gregory," James muttered as they approached the door.

"Let it go, old boy," John said. "She's touchy about her father under the best of circumstances. In her current hormonal state she's liable to shoot both of us if riled further." They found her waiting at the end of the long hallway near a flight of stairs. Opposite of it was what looked like an elevator but none were too willing to test it out so they hiked the stairs. John noted that both the expectant mother and the retired sleuth looked worn and were in need of rest. Helen was starting to limp slightly though she continued to try to hide the fact that her feet were still swollen.

The Library floor was more of a communal space. The floors above, which were in much better condition, were sectioned off as private living spaces. They agreed that with a good cleaning and dusting the rooms could be quickly habitable. The floor above the library had a large dining hall and small attached kitchen on one wing and several rooms on the opposite end that could serve as living spaces and offices. Arriving at the top of the stairs on the next level they stepped into a large open space that could serve as another living room. A pair of heavy doors sectioned off the each wing from the central living space. The east wing had four bedrooms and three bathrooms. The west wing was half the size of the east but must have served as the master's quarters for the main bedroom was twice the size as one of the east wing bedrooms as was its connected bath. Across the hall were two other bedrooms with a shared bathroom which was located closest to the entrance of the wing.

As soon as Helen stepped into the second bedroom at the end of the hall she knew she'd found her nursery. The two bedrooms on this side had windows facing out into the center of the city and its many terraced gardens that were fallowed but could be revived. The view out these windows could be beautiful. The clincher was the window seat situated beneath two tall windows. Smiling to herself Helen wandered around the room mentally creating a shopping list of all the things they would need. The first of which would be cleaning supplies. As soon as they returned to the cabin she would be on the laptop searching for nursery furniture and bedding. A light paint color on the walls would work better with the room's small size and Helen suddenly pictured the walls washed in a soft fern green.

Standing in the doorway and resting against its framing, John watched her explore the space and mutter softly to herself. She didn't seem to notice his presence she was so engrossed in her task. He knew from the way her face was lit up that she'd found her nursery and had moved onto the nesting stage. James realized it too and gave the father to be a pat on the back before he wandered off to reexamine the rest of the floor.

Finally satisfied, she turned to find John silently watching her in the doorway, arms crossed and smiling goofily at her. "Ready to pick out baby stuff I take it?" he guessed.

"Yes," she happily answered as she went to wrap her arms around his waist. They both laughed as her bulging stomach prevented her from fully succeeding. "It's going to take a lot of work getting this space up to par."

"Whatever you want you'll have," he promised and kissed her nose.

"You remembered Golden Rule #1," she giggled. "I have trained you well, Grasshopper. Just keep in mind that all those rules apply for the first year of the baby's life too."

He gave her a playful swat on her bottom. "You're making this up as you go, aren't you?"

"I'm serious," she laughed. "Unless you want to be the one responsible for nursing our daughter."

It was his turn to laugh. "I am an abnormal but I am not _that_ abnormal. Nursing is the mother's job. And you can in no way call me a chauvinist pig for that comment because it's completely biological."

She responded by resting her head on his chest and staring back optimistically into the room that would be soon inhabited by her little miracle. Everything was falling into place and she was confident that they could be moved into their new abode just in time for the baby's birth, which she felt would be within the next six weeks rather than the eight Dr. Lindstrom had predicted.

Unfortunately there's an old saying about the best laid plans going awry… as Helen would soon discover much to her dismay.


	53. Home Sweet Home Part 2

Chapter 53: Home Sweet Home Part 2

James had barely rounded the corner to the coffee shop when he heard the light quick steps come up behind him and felt the looming presence of the taller man. "I told you I'd meet you at the café," he grumpily said, not bothering to look behind him. He didn't have to… he knew those footsteps from anywhere. "It's two a.m. and I've had two hours of sleep after a long, trying day of exasperatingly boring paperwork."

"We can go without sleep for longer periods than most of the masses," the taller man groused back as he lumbered unhappily behind while Watson pulled the glass door open and entered the café. "Why are we here?" he asked sulkily. "I told you I need your help."

"I need caffeine," the other shot back in an equally sulky tone. "If I am to be so rudely roused out of bed the least you can do is wait while I get something to drink. You may not require much sleep but I am an old man whose body insists otherwise." Proceeding directly to the counter, he ordered a tall Earl Grey, a tall chai tea and selected half a dozen of the freshly made cookies from the glass case next to the register. He ignored John, who had leaned against the far counter with crossed arms and glowered at everyone as if they personally had insulted him somehow. As it was a Saturday night, the café had quite a number of patrons seated in its faux leather chairs and chatting away noisily. A few repeatedly glanced nervously over at the big man who seemed to be doing nothing but glaring at those around him. Two pretty young twenty-somethings with large coffees paused briefly nearby, looked at the big frowning man and decided that the empty chairs by the fireplace weren't worth taking if the giant was going to continue staring at everyone like some crazed pervert. They scuttled off quickly to the other side of the room, causing the tiniest of a smile to pull at the corner of John's mouth. Always good to know he could still be intimidating when needed, though of course at the moment he wasn't trying to be. He was just frustrated with his impossible situation.

Patience wearing thin, John stomped over to the other side of the long counter where James was taking his time fixing the teas to his liking. "Are you quite through administering to your tea your majesty?" he snarked. "And I don't want any tea," he grunted at the second cup. "I want you to do something before she goes too far."

James snorted as he replaced the lid on his tea. "You can't get your woman under control and you want me to step in and deal with her. Is that what you're telling me? What are we? Back in Oxford and you a silly school boy frightened to ask her out to the winter ball?"

"She's going to end up killing our child," John barked, startling the patrons around him who immediately stopped their conversations to turn and stare at him in shock. He in turn gave the lot a murderous look which resulted in them quickly turning away from the scary man.

"Lower your voice," James commanded testily, "and get yourself under control man. Try to remember you're English and not some common street thug." He cut any protest off by shoving the bag of cookies into Druitt's hand and then picking up a cup of tea in each hand. "She is a doctor. She knows what she's doing, even if she's going about it in a bizarre way. You know perfectly well she would never harm a child, particularly one of her own."

"I realize that," the big man groaned as he followed his friend back to the front door. "But things are escalating and she's becoming more agitated with each passing hour. I'm terrified to leave her alone for long for fear she might try something more drastic once my back is turned." Stepping outside into the brisk cool air he added, "And I wasn't frightened to ask her out to the winter ball. I did ask her once the time was right."

Watson sniggered. "You practically stuttered your request… and you only did it after she prompted you by asking you if you had already selected an escort to the ball. Had you not followed through and ask her to be your date then and there I have no doubt she would have taken the initiative and asked you to escort her, social etiquette be damned. She was head strong from the moment you met her. And you were wrapped around her beckoning finger from the moment she batted her baby blues at you." He snickered again at the stony silence he received from the hulking figure behind him. Ten points for me, he thought smugly to himself, and zero to Helen's great big, sulking mastiff.

"She's just ready for it to be over with," James counseled to get the conversation back on track. Probably not the best of ideas to poke at the big lug when he was feeling helpless and upset. "She looks like she's swallowed two large watermelons, she can't see her feet unless they're propped up before her, and she is exhausted and generally feeling miserable." He turned into a dark side alley and waited for his companion to come to a stop next to him. "You can't blame her for any of that given the fact that you're the cause of it all." He aimed a sharp look at the other. "And if you tell her I said she looks like she's swallowed two large watermelons I'll deny it and tell her you were stalking her about Oxford for a week and hiding behind columns to stare at her unnoticed until you could work up the nerve to ask her to the ball."

"I understand she's beyond frustrated," the expectant father to be exclaimed. "But her latest scheme is too much. Come and you'll see what I mean." He reached out a large hand to grab James smoothly by the collar and pull their faces closer together. "And I did not stalk her or peer at her behind columns like some love forlorn boy. She just happened to be nearby at times when we were changing classes."

"Fine, take me to her," Watson reluctantly agreed. "But don't spill my tea getting us there. And you can spare me the hot denials about stalking her. Nikola, Nigel and I used to watch you do it from various buildings on campus and laugh our heads off. We had a bet how long it would take you to work up the nerve to ask her. Nigel and I were not amused to lose a quid each to Tesla given the fact that he only won because he happen to be on the spot when she prompted you."

"You all bet on us attending the ball?" John exclaimed in surprise.

"And on when you'd first get the nerve to hold her hand… Nigel won that one. And whether you'd take the initiative to secretly kiss her under one of the many mistletoe branches wired up above all the archways around the ballroom and its attached gardens before the night's end… which you didn't being the great big chicken that you were and so she had to be the one to give you a quick peck on the lips before swishing off with a flush across her face for her boldness. I won that bet. I even called the correct location which was obvious given it was in the darkest corner of the garden walkway," James mused thoughtfully. "Oh, and how many dances you'd get with her at the ball given all the sudden attention the other men in the room were paying to her in that deep, peacock green gown… Tesla won that one but we refused to pay up given the fact that he was the one egging the other men to pursue her by repeatedly mentioning how lovely she looked and that the dress must have cost a fortune, not that it mattered to her given how wealthy her father was and the fact that she was his only heir."

"What?!" the big man cried. "You idiots were spying on us the whole night just to win some stupid bets?" In the dark his eyes narrowed as he took in the rest of the confession. "And I knew it was one of you gits causing mischief at the dance. She always looked beautiful in whatever she wore around the college but suddenly every single man under forty at Oxford that night wanted to converse and dance with her. She was my date and yet I had to stand aside and act polite while trying to recapture her from the dance floor."

James smiled at the little recollection. "She did look smashing that night. And you looked ridiculous trying to smother your jealousy all evening at the attention she was receiving. Nikola said you looked like a constipated wolfhound," he shared with a big laugh.

Growling, John declared, "You lot were royal pains in my backside. I should have throttled you all."

Smirking back James said, "But then you would come to your rescue now with the lovely Dr. Magnus?"

"Ugh, I hate you all," John grumbled and teleported them away. A minute later they arrived in the root cellar of the Cutter family cabin where they entered the mountain by way of the secret entrance and rode the sphere rail to Avalon. It had been almost ten weeks since they made their way into the mountain to solve Gregory's riddle and find the lost city. Looking out the small glass window as the rail flew along its path James marveled privately how much had been accomplished in such a short time. The rail system they had discovered circled the city and there were three different rail cars as well as a flatbed car that could be attached to move large and heavy items. The way they had originally entered the rail system turned out to be the back way into the city with the narrow ledge running around the curve of the mountain to end at the bottom level of Avalon that was in ruins. Once they had reprogrammed the security system they were able to bring the rest of the rail line into operation and the direct line between the cellar and the middle section of the city ran in the opposite direction. From the cellar of the ranch to the exit station in the city it was a short five minute ride. Nick was a good tracker, but he was an even better handyman. The boy could build, create and revive just about anything he put his mind to doing.

"You know," James remarked as they stepped onto the platform and moved towards the elevator to go up to the upper levels, "she's not going to be happy you called in reinforcement."

"She's lucky I didn't tie her to the bed until the baby was born," he shot back and quickly halted as Watson turned to glare at him. "It was a figure of speech," he defended. "You know I'd never do that. She'd put a bullet through my head faster that I could say 'I'm sorry dear.'"

"Well, there's always hope she'll shoot you for something else," James commented as he held up his palm over the sensor and punched in his pass code to activate the elevator car.

"Ever the optimist, aren't you?" John snorted with a roll of his eyes.

"I am," James called over his shoulder with laughter in his voice as they entered the car.

Moments later they disembarked on the common living area and walked towards the kitchen area. The once small room had been enlarged with the removal of three non-structural walls from two adjacent rooms and lumber had been placed strategically to frame up the space into one long space. Nick had not yet had the time to put in the drywall to cover the timber framing. He was too busy finishing off the rooms upstairs in addition to ensuring the elevators and rail cars were in good working order.

The kitchen had been installed just the week before, thanks to the help of John and Lucy under the direction of James's protégé. Helen had been pleasantly surprised to discover that the young man lived up to Watson's praise that he was a creative building genius. Looking around she admired the bright, clean new kitchen surrounding her that had been done up in white cabinets with silver drawer pulls that matched the stainless steel appliances. The wide counter tops, which were made of sturdy laminate that looked like granite, had been selected for their lighter weight and sturdiness.

Sitting down on one of the comfortable stools at the large kitchen island Helen ran her hand along the cool surface while she glumly stared at the concoction in front of her. The color was a sickening puce and little seeds floated in the blended mess. Shoulders sagging, she swallowed hard as she tried to work up the nerve to pour the smoothie into the nearby awaiting glass. "Just suck it up and do it," she ordered herself and after a long pause reached over and poured the smoothie into the glass. Pulling it before her she sniffed the concoction and quickly pulled back before she could gag from the smell. Darn. The strawberries weren't enough to cover the smell. She prayed they would help mask the flavor at least. No time like the present she dully thought. Taking a deep breath she pinched her nose closed with one hand and grabbed the glass with the other.

The two men walked into the kitchen just in time to see the expectant mother cover her nose and lift a vile looking drink up to her mouth. Her eyes widened at the sight of them and she blew out a large breath in surprise. Unfortunately that caused her to take another whiff of the drink and she quickly put it down with a loud thump onto the table as she started to cough.

"What in God's name is that disgusting liquid you're about to drink?" James drawled as he walked up to her and peered down at the glass. "It smells like a mixture of strawberry daiquiri and vomit."

Helen pulled a face. "It's a mixture of various chili peppers, strawberries and a little coconut crème. Vomit's a bit harsh but not by much." She looked from John to James and frowned at them. "What are you doing here? It must be 2 a.m. your time. Forced to come to talk me down from the ledge by the hysterical father to be I presume?" she coolly guessed and glared at the taller man. She couldn't believe he went and dragged Watson out of bed just to talk her out of drinking the pepper concoction.

"I am not hysterical," John hotly denied and, pointing at the glass, declared, "and that is disgusting. You cannot drink that mess. It will give our child severe gas and burn her organs! Or worse, make her go blind! How can you do that to our innocent baby?"

Rolling her eyes, Helen countered with "It will not make her go blind. The gas part possibly but that might be just enough to get the show on the road."

Leaning down James stared into the side of the glass at the seeds floating lazily about. "Exactly what types of peppers are in this thing?" he asked and looked appalled at her answer. "You put ghost pepper in here?" he exclaimed with a deep scowl. "Woman, what were you thinking?"

"Only half a ghost pepper," she defended. "And I was thinking that this baby is almost two weeks late and I am a desperate woman!" she cried as she threw her arms out with a whine. "We're out of room in here," she said as she pointed to her enormous belly, "the baby is playing bouncy ball on my kidneys and I can't sleep because I am miserably uncomfortable. I want her out!"

"By making her sick?" John accused and smacked his palms down onto the counter. "Really, Helen, how could you?"

Placing her palms down on the counter she leaned forward to glare back at him. "I would never do anything to harm our daughter you jackass," she hissed back. "I am a doctor. I know what I'm doing."

Shaking his head at their squabbling, James picked up the drink and promptly dumped it in the sink. At her squawk of protest, he cut her off with a firm look. "You may be a doctor but you are not drinking that vile mess. As her future godfather I'm intervening on her behalf. I'll not have my godchild coming out with fried internal organs."

"You mean on his behalf," she accused with a jab at Druitt. "Now I have to make that mess from scratch all over again!"

Placing the cup of chai tea in front of her he sat down on the stool next to her and reached for the bag of cookies Druitt had slammed down onto the counter. Opening the bag he saw the cookies had gotten broken and gave John a dirty look before putting the sack between him and the pissed off woman to his right.

"What's this?" she asked eyeing the cup and sack suspiciously.

"Tea and cookies," he answered as he pulled a random cookie from the sack. "A vast improvement to the crap I just poured down the sink."

Pouting, she took a sip from the mug and dug around in the sack for a cookie. "I've already tried over dousing her with tea and food. It's not working. And if I hear one more person say she'll come out when she's ready so help me I'll shoot them with the biggest gun we have on hand."

Laughing, James pushed the cookie sack at the still glowering Druitt and took a sip of his tea as he stared around the space. It had been five long weeks since he'd last been here and he found himself missing the place with each passing day. There was adventure and discovery to be had here. Life in the London Sanctuary was becoming a daily drudge for him what with the endless stream of paperwork needing signatures and comments and due to his cursed legs he was spending more and more time indoors. Declan was proving to be the perfect protégé and had stepped up to take over more of the strenuous tasks. Watson was also feeling his age weighing down on him more than ever. He'd wrestled with the flu for over two weeks which had worn down his declining body. He was a very old man and he felt himself being stretched more thinly with each passing day. He knew he would live on for four more years until the trip to Bhalassam and had to continue to carry on the best he could without letting on how tired he was becoming. His visits to Avalon were rare treats away from the worries of his busy life.

"The kitchen is well fitted out," he remarked. "My lad has outdone himself. I can't wait to see the dining and family room space here finished off."

"You haven't seen the upstairs yet," John said as he finished off his cookie and reached for a napkin.

"The nursery?" James asked with a raised brow.

"Is amazing," Helen gushed and reached for a second cookie which turned out to be peanut butter much to her delight. This child sure did like her peanut butter. "Want a tour?"

"Absolutely," he agreed with a grin. "Where is Nick anyway?"

"Hiding upstairs, I expect," John chuckled. "Our discussions might have encouraged him to stay out of sight."

"I did warn them you were the Bickersons," James chuckled as he slid off the stool and helped Helen to her feet.

"We don't always bicker," she refuted as she led the way out of the room.

"No, sometimes one of us throws things," John piped up from the back of the trio.

"And I usually hit my target too," she retorted, causing both men to give a laugh. They went through the rest of the floor discussing their future plans for the yet unaltered spaces on this level. An enlarged living room, two offices and a media room were planned. The plan was to fix up the two upper levels and then slowly work their way down.

The men climbed the stairs after the expectant mother refused to take the lift, stating that if she couldn't convince her little bundle of joy to come out with hot peppers than perhaps exercise would be an encouragement. At the top of the stairs she heaved a heavy sigh and asked to be excused for a moment. Exercise only encouraged her daughter to take a nap on her kidneys she morosely thought as she set off the private bathroom in her bedroom.

The men waited until she had waddled out of sight before speaking what was on each other's mind. "She really needs to have that baby," James concluded. "Are you sure there's only one in there? She's bigger than she was with Ashley."

"That's what the sonogram showed," John replied. "If she doesn't come out in the next 24 hours I think Helen will cave and agree to have the baby induced. She's been fighting it for fear of what might happen should the hospital get a hold of a sample of the baby's blood. I told her I would follow the attendant and steal back the sample but she's still worried."

James looked around at the open cozy sitting area that was centered between the staircase on one side and the lift on the other. There was a pair of comfy brown leather wing chairs with matching ottomans, a light blue love seat, and long coffee table arranged nicely around the corner fireplace. A light beige rug in an intricate Persian pattern covered the floor and the walls had been freshly painted a soft cream. A 32 inch flat screen was wired up onto the wall and waist high bookcases ran along the opposite wall. Above the bookcases trio of framed watercolors were hung and spotlighted by a pair of modern lamps hanging off of metal railings that ran the length of the space. The area had been completely transformed and James recognized the work of his foster children. Lucy had chosen the furnishings and Nick had done all the wiring.

"Thank you for sending along Helen's watercolors," John said with the first genuine smile he'd given all day. "She actually cried when she saw them hanging on the wall. She had no idea you'd saved them all these many years."

"She blamed the tears on baby hormones, didn't she?" James chuckled. Two of these particular watercolors were of her French garden in bloom in early spring and the central one featured an amiable gray, spotted horse grazing in an open field with scattered wildflowers.

Nodding, John chuckled along with him. "It was the paintings though. She loved that place… and Ollie. Perhaps we can put in a barn by the cabin next spring. She would be thrilled to have another horse."

"So would Lucy," James responded. "Her brother of course would argue that a horse is dangerous and they'd fuss at one another like when they were children. He's a bit overprotective, in case you haven't noticed," he said as they turned and proceeded in the direction of the east wing.

"I've noticed," John laughed softly. "They do a pretty good rendition of the Bickersons themselves." The first bedroom on the north side was untouched. The next room over was the shared bathroom where they discovered a pair of lean legs sticking out from underneath the long vanity and grunts could be heard as the man struggled to tighten the new piping to the old existing plumbing. The sparse, bare bones bathroom had been transformed into a bright modern space. James walked further in and admired the newly retiled step down shower, vanity and toilet.

Wiggling out from underneath the vanity Nick sat up as he wiped his hands on a rag and his face lit up at the sight of his mentor. "James," he greeted in delight, "I didn't know you were coming. What do you think?"

"Emergency mediation," he said with a glance at John. The boy grinned, knowing exactly what he was referring to. He'd heard the expectant pair going rounds over her idea for inducing labor and had high tailed it out from the kitchen for a quieter location. "This is an excellent job, my boy," James commended with a wave of his hand. "A bit feminine for my taste though. Please tell me this isn't my bathroom."

Laughing, Nick stood up. "Your rooms are across the hall along with mine. This is the ladies powder room and the largest of the three. It's a bit feminine for Ashley's taste I've been told but Lucy insisted on the cheerful Moroccan tiles the moment she laid eyes on them. She actually helped installed all the tiles she was so excited about the space. She's decided she likes laying tiles, which is good since we've got four bathrooms on this level to remodel." He pointed to the two paint samples taped to the walls which had been repaired here and there with spackle and then coated with Kilz primer to seal the added plaster. "Those are the colors she chose for the upper and lower walls."

"The soft creams will help temper these bright teal, purple and red tiles," James agreed. "At least she didn't pick out girly pinks. Ashley would have taken a hammer to those."

In the doorway John grinned. "Ashley is definitely not a pink princess kind of girl."

"Where is your sister?" James asked as he went to exit the room.

"At the university turning in her final paper," the boy said as he sat down underneath the second sink to connect its plumbing to the wall. "Last day of winter term. She's having late lunch with her girlfriends afterwards. She should be back in a few hours. She'll be disappointed if you're not here."

"I have to get back before six a.m. my time. People will wonder where I've disappeared to," James said and set off to explore the other rooms. His was the bedroom and en suite at the opposite end. The walls in the bedroom had been similarly primed and a fresh layer of matte cream had been pained onto the walls. A vintage Mahogany four poster bed with new mattresses had been set up against one wall with a matching dresser and a tall media armoire arranged smartly around the room. A long leather chaise and attending side table was set off to the side. It was a surprise to see how much furniture could actually fit in the space.

The bedding was a masculine deep green with thin black satin trim. Spread across the foot of the bed was a soft afghan in black, green, red, blue and yellow made from the bright plaid of the Watson clan tartan. Lucy had decorated the room for him. A pair of nightstands stood on either side of the headboard and he stopped to pick up the lone framed photograph resting on the top of the furthest one. It was a photo of him with Lucy and Nick when they were young children. Their third year together as an unconventional family, though they never spoke openly of this fact. The corners of his eyes crinkled up as he smiled affectionately at the image. They were the closest thing he would ever have to children of his own. He also thought of Declan as a son but Declan at least had some biological family of his own, even if it was only an aged mother and numerous distant cousins. The Cutter children had no one but James to call family. He replaced the photo onto the table and peeked into the adjacent bathroom.

"It's not yet functional," John told him. "The children have been focusing on getting the bedrooms and the hall bathroom in order first." He trailed behind as James peaked in on Nick's rooms which were a mirror layout of his but in nowhere near as good a shape as Watson's. The boy was obviously putting all of his energy in finishing the rooms for the others before himself.

The two men then set off to seek out Helen and check out the west wing. In the master bedroom they found her clutching one of the foot posts of the bed and breathing heavily. She had also changed into a loose fitting dark sweater dress.

"Helen?" John called out in alarm and quickly crossed the room to reach her.

Panting she looked up at him and smiled weakly. "My water broke."


	54. And Baby Makes Three Part 1

Chapter 54: And Baby Makes Three Part 1

"Helen?" John called out in alarm and quickly crossed the room to reach her.

Panting she looked up at him and smiled weakly. "My water broke."

"I beg your pardon?" the stunned man asked stupidly.

"It's time, you git," his best friend announced as he joined them. To Helen he cheerfully said "See, you didn't have to drink that horrid pepper concoction after all. She decided she was ready all on her own."

"Yes," Helen laughed and then cringed as another contraction hit. "Ow! Ow! Ow!" she chanted painfully and rubbed at her stomach.

That seemed to snap Druitt out of his stupor. "The baby's coming now?" he asked and put an arm around her as she doubled over with a cry.

"Contractions are coming faster," Helen cried with a whimper. "Hospital. Now!" she panted.

James managed to grab a hold of John's shoulder before he could disappear with the ailing mother. A moment later they reappeared outside the local hospital in a sheltered spot off to the side where they knew no cameras were focused on. Arm supporting her, John quickly led them into the emergency room entrance while Watson followed in their wake. At the counter, John loudly announced the grimacing mother was in labor and needed a doctor. He angrily reached for and practically dragged the startled attendant across the counter when he was told he needed to fill out paperwork and a doctor would see them as soon as one was available. "She is in labor," John growled in the terrified attendant's face. "I want a doctor to see her NOW!"

"John," Helen reprimanded, "he's just doing his…" She then cried out in agony as the next set of contractions hit her like a tidal wave. Releasing the attendant, John grabbed her with both hands to support her as she doubled over screaming in pain.

"We require a doctor immediately," James calmly told the attendant as the harried man scrambled back down behind the counter. "She's in heavy labor and the child seems impatient to enter this world."

The attendant quickly picked up the phone to call for a doctor while a nurse who had heard the woman's shriek hustled over with a wheelchair. "He'll still need to do the paperwork," the attendant told Watson as he got off the phone and then jumped back as Druitt turned a furious look upon him.

"I'll take care of the paperwork," James loudly assured them. "Go do what you need to do," he ordered the worried father to be, who immediately rushed off to follow after Helen as the nurse wheeled her away. "May I borrow a pen," he politely asked the miffed attendant whose badge identified him as George.

"Your friend's a bit of a ruffian," George sniffed as he handed over the clipboard and pen.

"He's experiencing his first real opportunity at fatherhood," James apologized with a shrug. "He's a little jumpy." He ignored the bitter man's response of "I suppose so but there's no need for unnecessary roughness" and sat down in a nearby seat to fill out the information sheets.

"Mother's name… Helen Heatherington," he muttered as he began completing the first form. "Father's name… unworthy bastard." And so it went for four pages of mind numbing paperwork. Watson was well accustomed to filling out mind numbing paperwork.

In another section of the hospital John held fast to Helen's hand as the nurse tried to hook her up to monitoring equipment. "No time," Helen grimaced, "the baby's coming fast." She then flew back onto the pillow with a shriek as a strong contraction hit.

"Well, well, if it isn't Dr. and Mr. I'm not getting married," a familiar voice greeted them. "You're still in town."

The expectant parents looked up to find Dr. Lindstrom smiling at them as she hurried over to the bedside. What luck that the sassy, elderly doctor had been on call this evening. "I'd ask how you were doing but judging by that last scream I'd say you're ready to get this show on the road." A few more questions and accompanying screams brought the doctor up to speed as she went about checking how dilated the suffering mother to be was. The pale faced father grimaced as his partner squeezed his hand and at times sunk her nails into his flesh but never once did he pull away from her. Rather, he hung on for dear life, almost as if he were unconsciously fearful that she and their child will disappear away from him.

"Okay," the elderly doctor concluded and motioned for her nurse to join her. "Looks like baby Griffin is past the opening gate and heading towards the finishing line. Helen, get ready to push."

Panting hard, Helen rasped harshly between waves of intense pain, "The cord. Difficulties with first birth. Cord wrapped around baby's throat." She then let out a blood curdling scream that caused John to jump in his seat.

"Helen," he cried out in alarm and gave the attending doctor a wide eyed look. "Do something," he begged. "Please!"

"It's too late for an epidural," Dr. Lindstrom calmly declared. "Only thing left to do is to push for all you're worth. Come on mommy, push when you're told. I'll keep an eye out for the cord," she promised as she settled between Helen's legs to deliver the baby.

Ten minutes later a sweat drenched Helen was slumped back against the pillow gasping roughly for air. She'd forgotten how hard the delivery part was physically but then it had been over thirty years since she'd delivered Ashley. Eyes closed, the exhausted woman just wanted to go to sleep and wake up when the whole ordeal was over.

"You're doing great, Dr. Heatherington," the doctor encouraged her. "One more big push and your little one will make it over the finishing line."

"You need to push hard," John ordered excitedly. His child was almost here. He'd waited so long to finally be a father and all that was required was for her mother to push harder. "Push, Helen!"

"I'll push when I'm good and bloody ready!" she growled back at him as she opened one eye to glare at him. "If you want to push so bloody bad you can get up on this bed and do it yourself!"

"Focus," the doctor commanded as she supported the bulk of the baby's body and then ordered the mother to push one final time. "You're almost there."

"That's right," he nodded and gave his partner's hand a squeeze. "One more big push."

"You push!" Helen barked as she bore down and pushed as hard as she could. As she fell back on the pillow the loud pounding of her blood and racing heartbeat nearly drowned out the high pitched cry that suddenly filled the air.

John's head snapped up from its worried focus on Helen's face to locate the source the shrill crying.

"Welcome to the world little one," Dr. Lindstrom cooed to the bawling infant resting in her arms. "It's a bit bright I know but you'll adjust soon enough."

"She's alright?" Helen weakly asked and blinked blearily at the doctor. She was so tired yet she wanted to hold her daughter as soon as possible.

"I think so but give us a minute to clean her up and make sure all the bits are in place and in working order," the doctor stated.

"She's finally here," John exhaled and leaned down to kiss his partner's forehead. He didn't register the salty taste of her sweaty brow in his euphoric state. All he cared about was that he now had a daughter of his own to raise. One that would call him daddy and snuggle in his arms as he read to her each night before bedtime. One that would not fear him and look upon him as a monster.

"Yes," she murmured and gave him a tired smile as he stroked her cheek.

"I love you," he softly declared as he pressed his forehead against her temple. "For all eternity."

"I love you too," she whispered back.

A loud squawk of protest from the baby caused them to look over at the nurse and doctor with matching frowns. "The blood sample," she whispered.

"I'll get it before she leaves the room," he promised. His eyes lit up as the doctor moved towards them with a pink wrapped bundle.

"Ten perfect little fingers and ten perfect little toes," Dr. Lindstrom pronounced as she went to lay the little bundle into her excited mother's arms. "A healthy seven pounds eight ounces and eyes as blue as sapphires," she said as she backed away. "Quite the little stunner you have here."

Gently folding back the pink cloth to get a better look at her daughter Helen's heart caught in her throat as she was greeted by a pair of sleepy blue orbs that blinked at her from under a flutter of long, dark lashes and a tiny bow of a mouth that smacked together as the baby gave a loud yawn. "Oh, aren't you lovely," Helen murmured softly as a few tears of joy began to stream down her cheek.

"Simply magnificent," John croaked hoarsely as he pressed his cheek against hers and admired their prefect little creation. His hand gingerly reached out to touch the little fist resting near the baby's chest. The skin was so soft; the hand so tiny and fragile that tears began to spill from the corners of his gray-blue eyes. It had taken two long, difficult years to bring his family back to him. And once they reclaimed Ashley his family would be complete, the way it should have always been.

So enthralled were they with their newborn that Helen barely registered the nurse's parting words of "let me know if you need anything else" as she reached for the door handle. Dr. Lindstrom had left shortly before when her beeper went off.

"John," Helen hissed and elbowed him hard in the ribcage. Giving a loud grunt he turned a frown on her. "The nurse!" she cried and motioned to the closing door. "Hurry!"

He suddenly realized why she was so distressed and jumped up off the bed to set off after the nurse. He caught up with her halfway down the hall. Calling out "Nurse!" he barreled into her, knocking them both to the floor. "I'm so sorry!" he apologized and went to help her collect the items she'd dropped in the fall. "I just wanted to ask you an urgent question before you left. I apologize for my clumsiness."

"It's alright," the confused nurse answered as the big man helped lift her back to her feet and handed her the items she'd dropped. "What did you need to ask me?"

"Uh…" he stalled as his mind searched for a plausible excuse. "Uh… about the baby."

"What about the baby?" she said with a frown as she stared up at the flustered man.

"Diaper!" he cried. "What about the diapers? We didn't bring any with us in our haste to get to the hospital. We forgot everything at the house."

The nurse gave him an indulgent pat on the arm. "It's alright, Mr. Griffin. I'll be right back with a complimentary care bag. There are a few diapers in there and we can provide more if needed. You'll want to get someone to bring your partner a change of clothing though. She'll want to freshen up and put on something clean."

He blinked back in surprise. It hadn't occurred to him that Helen would need clean clothing. "Of course," he replied slowly. "Thank you." He began making his way back to their room then stopped and headed down another hallway. Three minutes later he reentered the emergency room waiting area and was relieved to see Watson seated in one of the chairs watching CNN on the overhead monitor and sipping from a white Styrofoam cup. Judging from the down turn of his mouth he wasn't enjoying his cup of coffee.

"That bad?" John called out as he approached.

"Absolute rubbish," James confirmed and stood up to toss the cup into a nearby trash can. "Everything okay?" he asked and received a big goofy grin in response.

"Mother and child are both fine," the proud father shared. "She's absolutely amazing, James. The doctor called her a little stunner."

"Ah, so she looks like her mother then," James teased. "Thank goodness. The thought of a miniature version of you in a baby bonnet is too horrifying to contemplate."

"Unfortunately I don't have the luxury of merely imagining you in a woman's bonnet," John returned in good humor. "It was beyond horrifying and I was scarred for life." The two men laughed. "Can you get a hold of Nick?" he asked. "In our haste to leave we didn't have a chance to get Helen a change of clothing or any necessities for the baby."

Watson made the call as they walked back to Helen's room and was relieved to be told that Lucy was there and would be more than willing to run the items to the hospital. Nick wouldn't have had a clue what type of clothing and supplies Helen and the baby would require. Entering the room the two men discovered the new mother humming Beautiful Dreamer as she gently rocking her newborn in her arms.

"How's our little angel?" the beaming father softly asked as he came to sit on the bed and look lovingly down upon their newborn.

"Fast asleep," she answered back softly without removing her gaze off of her baby's cherubic face. She would never tire of looking upon her baby's face or of touching her soft skin. The child's coloring was perfect too, thank goodness. She'd forgotten how overwhelming the experience was of holding her own child in her arms. Sensing movement to her left, Helen briefly looked up and smiled at James, who was leaning down to look at his godchild.

"She's beautiful, Helen," he softly praised of the napping infant. "She looks so much like Ashley did when she was born."

The innocent comment caused John to blink and a knot form in his throat. He had not been around when Ashley was born. Had never held his firstborn nor witnessed her first steps. Taking a deep, long breath he touched the baby's hand and silently swore to her that he'd make up for all the mistakes he'd made with her older sister. He would be a part of every important moment in her life. There would be no regrets with this one.

Unaware of the turmoil going on in his friend's head, James asked, "Has our little wonder been given a proper appellation yet? While I agree angel and beautiful are apropos descriptions she would no doubt appreciate something more personal to associate with herself."

"James Watson, I am pleased to introduce you to your newest godchild…" Helen stated then paused briefly while the baby shifted in her sleep to give a loud smack and press her tiny fist against her mouth. "Miss Patricia Amelia…"

"Druitt," John interrupted.

"Magnus," Helen finished and gave him a smirk.

James shook his head at their competitiveness. "That's quite a mouthful for one wee babe."

"We're going to call her Amelia," she laughed.

Reaching down to gently stroke the newborn's cheek, James said, "Well, Miss Amelia, it is very nice to meet you finally. I am your godfather and the one you'll be running to when you parents tell you no or try to ground you. Do try not to throw up or piddle on me like your big sister did."

Her parents laughed together aloud, causing the baby to give a low whimper at the noise intrusion. "Want to hold her?" Helen asked her partner, who gave her a lopsided grin and nodded his dark head. He very much wanted to hold his child for the first time.


	55. And Baby Makes Three Part 2

Chapter 55: And Baby Makes Three Part 2

Sitting down in a nearby chair Watson's eagle eyes watched as the baby was transferred into her eager father's arms. The only other times he'd witness such a reaction in the big lug was in connection to Helen's acceptance of his affections. He still didn't know the truth behind what had brought about the violent change in Druitt's personality nor how that had been curbed. And he was still a bit concerned his friend could reverse back to the Jack persona having control. However, for at least two years Druitt had been stable and Helen obviously believed he had resolved his violent tendencies. He gave a tired sigh and relaxed back in the hard vinyl chair. The look of adoration on John's face as he gently rocked his child was worth the hard work they had done over these long years. This was his John, the one he'd formed a lifelong bond with as best friends when they'd attended Oxford in their youth. The extreme pain the new parents had suffered in their youth was behind them and hopefully only happiness lie before them. For the next four years they would know peace and quietly raise their newest offspring. The events to come after that would stressful and dangerous as they worked to save Ashley and the others... including himself. "Hang on, old boy," he told himself. "Live long enough to get to Bhalassam."

He was revived from his internal contemplations when Helen suddenly asked, "Did you stop the nurse?"

Nodding, John replied, "In my pocket. Got it without her ever suspecting. I told her we needed diapers and she offered to return with something called a complimentary care bag."

"She'll come back for another sample within 24 hours," James warned.

"We'll be on our way before then," Helen murmured and tiredly closed her eyes. "Just give us a few hours to make sure she's feeding properly and then we can quietly check out."

Four hours later they were back in Avalon. James had been returned to London before anyone there realized he'd been gone. Helen had been thrilled to get a refreshing quick shower, a clean change of clothing and was now rocking in her oversized leather recliner as she nursed her baby. The baby's father was softly snoring away from the daybed against the wall. His fascination at watching her nurse their offspring had finally given way to exhaustion and he lie on his side, hands tucked under his chin as he slept.

Pulling her nightgown back over her exposed breast, she leaned down to place a sweet kiss on her slumbering baby's forehead. She gently pulled her finger free from Amelia's grasp and gave a soft giggle as the thought that both of her big babies were asleep flittered through her head. John snoring away on the bed and Amelia softly snoring away in her arms. Amelia was quite the little butterball compared to her older sister, who had weighed less than six pounds when she'd been born. Ashley had been more fragile as a newborn and needed phototherapy for the first five days of her life. Those had been hard days for the new mother who had felt far more vulnerable than she had ever felt in her entire life. A child was its parent heart in physical form, something Helen had not fully understood until that moment when the attending doctor had announced the baby was ill and in need of treatment for her jaundice. She'd blamed herself, worried that delaying Ashley's birth so long had caused her to be unwell, and fretted for days while James and her Old Friend tried to reassure her all would be well. And in the end it was.

Cringing in discomfort as she slowly eased herself off the recliner she stood up and carried her little miracle over to the crib. Ideally she would have remained in the hospital a day or two extra to recover from the birth with the aid of attending nurses and doctors but it was too much of a risk for the baby's safety. She was a strong woman who would plod through the discomfort with the aid of a mild pain reliever such as Motrin and other techniques used to recover from child birth such as taking sitz baths and continuing to use a pillow when sitting. Gently placing Amelia in her new bed Helen just stood for a long time staring down at the beautiful creature below her. My sweet little baby she thought to herself and adjusted the baby's clothing away from her face. The infant was wearing a little pink nightgown trimmed with handmade smocking that had tiny embroidered white rabbits. A little matching hat covered the baby's head and pink fuzzy socks kept her little feet warm. John's eyes had zeroed in on the outfit in the central display table as they entered the pricy baby store and he'd been so touched that she'd selected it as their baby's first official outfit that his eyes had watered. Such a big man brought to tears over something so small. This was the John she had fallen in love with and had wanted a family with.

Hearing John mumble in his sleep as he turned over onto his back, she made her way to his side, unfolded the lavender knit blanket and covered him with it. When they had designed the nursery he had insisted on an extra long day bed to fit his tall frame for those times when he would care for their daughter. Nick had easily built the frame for the bed and John had happily painted it moonflower white. Giving his face a stroke she smiled to herself as she reflected on how excited he had been this last month preparing for the baby. He'd insisted on being a part of every decision and activity tied into the nursery. So much so that they'd gotten into several arguments over it. She was used to being the one in charge and the last word on everything. Learning to compromise was part of the challenge of being a couple and they were navigating their way through being in a relationship with a difficult past. Most of the time she had gotten her way and she caved on the other times to allow him to feel as if he'd had input into the process.

She did get quite a few chuckles watching him put the baby furniture together while swearing in multiple languages throughout. The six drawer changing table had been the most difficult to construct and then was a bit wobbly completed. Nick had prevented him from chunking it down the stairs when John had declared it wasn't safe enough for the baby by reinforcing it across the back and leveling the feet to fix the wobble. It now lay to the left of the crib, flush against the wall, and fit the space perfectly. Clear green glass knobs had been installed rather than the boring wooden knobs that came with the dresser.

The entire room was perfect and anything but boring. It could easily be featured in any interior design magazine. Ashley's nursery, done up in vintage English furniture in shades of pinks and rose, was beautiful but Amelia's nursery was nothing short of dreamy. Done up in shades of soft greens, purples and white it was a contemporary nursery inspired by the French cottage and garden Helen had given up to return to the present. Nick, with John's help, had fitted the floor with thick, cream colored carpeting to increase the insulation in the space. Plus it would provide the baby soft padding when she would begin to crawl and walk.

Exhaustion pawing at her too, Helen carefully shuffled back over to the chair and eased herself back down with a few low grunts against the discomfort she felt. She was quite sore. If she weren't nursing she'd take a much stronger pain reliever but that wasn't possible and she didn't have the energy to shove the baby's father off the daybed. He needed sleep as much as she did. The clueless fool was in for quite a shock when the baby's squalling and frequent diaper changes went into full effect. Leaning back, she pressed the button on the side of the recliner to get it to adjust all the way down into a flat sleeping position. The special order chair had cost quite a penny and was easily the most expensive item in the room but it was worth the extra cost. It could adjust to several positions smoothly without disturbing a sleeping baby the product description had promised.

Even though she was spent she couldn't fall asleep immediately. Instead, she looked around the room and admired the lovely space for the millionth time. The walls were a soft, light green with the door and window casings in white. Long white curtains trimmed with purple and green velvet ribbons were hung from near the ceiling. Using her brand new sewing machine, Lucy had made the curtains and matching pillows for the daybed, which was covered in crisp white linens trimmed with eyelet lace. The room was definitely feminine without being nauseatingly princess-y.

A little whine from the crib caught her attention and she held her breath as she waited to see whether the baby would wake up. After another long minute she let out a relieved breath when Amelia continued to sleep peacefully. The white crib was a popular model by Jenny Lind that had a vintage feel to it. Its bedding was white with eyelet lace, similar to that on the daybed. The bed skirt was in light lavender with green velvet ribbon trim, also made by Lucy. Okay, she might have gone a little overboard with the matching color scheme but the space felt wonderful to the new mother and all the white brightened it up. This place was a safe haven for Amelia to grow up in and play to her little heart's content.

Above the changing table was a long white pegboard from which hung three sweet little outfits that Amelia would someday wear. Each dress had been picked out by her father and was in a different size to mark the occasion of Amelia reaching the next three month stage. Two large bundles of dried lavender tied up with white lace and green velvet ribbon hung on the end pegs to finish up the display. Whenever she went near them their pleasant scent filled her nostrils and reminded her garden in Bordeaux. John had brought her a large bundle of lavender for their bedroom but she'd split it in two for the nursery and used the left over lace and ribbon to tie them up.

There had been no room for a closet so Nick had refinished the closet in next small bedroom to a house the newborn's ever expanding wardrobe. He'd removed the rough wooden shelves and fitted it with three wooden rods per Helen's request. Each rod would hold different sizes of clothing with the bottom rod for the newborn through 3 month sized clothing. Numerous outfits already hung from the rods thanks to several purchases by the excited parents. John must have been the giddiest father to be as he happily carried bag after bag from one baby store to the next. His fascination with baby shoes had transferred to baby jumpers with silly or cute sayings. Helen had laughed at him as he purchased onesies with sayings such as "Little Miss Behaving," "I'm not allowed to date," and "My daddy can beat up your daddy." At the last one her mouth had dropped open and she'd said, "Really, John? For a baby?" Grinning at her as he handed it to the cashier he'd smugly commented, "Well, it's true." His favorite had been one that said "I get my drama from my mama." She'd countered by purchasing one that said, "I'm cute… My mommy is cute… My daddy got very lucky." Nick and Lucy had read all of them as they were spread out on the kitchen table, looked at one another afterwards and just burst out laughing. That poor child had a pair of crazy parents.

The second bedroom itself was too small to serve as Ashley's future bedroom so the plan was to eventually turn it into a playroom for Amelia. It would be refinished later, after the rest of the rooms on the floor were completed. For now it would remain in its rough, antiquated appearance with only the closet being serviceable.

Turning her head to the right the drowsy mother stared up at the tall white bookcase that ran from floor to ceiling. It had been Nick's gift to the baby and was handcrafted and secured to the wall. The lad seemed to be able to build or restore just about anything with his strong hands. Whereas his sister seemed a brilliant scholar he seemed to be a brilliant craftsman. A trio of baby blankets were folded up on one shelf beside a stuffed classic Eeyore from the Winnie the Pooh books. On the shelf below were a display of numerous little hand knit booties and hats. All the knit blankets, booties and hats had been Lucy's gifts to the baby. She could knit faster than anyone Helen had ever known and seemed thrilled to be able to make miniature little items for Amelia.

Two shelves were already filled with classic children's books that John had purchased in anticipation for reading to his newborn. He had spent a good hour wandering up and down the children's section intently inspecting the books and chatting up the elderly clerk on which were the most popular ones for young children. Seated nearby in a leather chair, Helen had amusedly watched him make his selections and bring them handfuls at a time to pile down next to her chair. Several had been ones that she'd read to Ashley when she was a toddler and she'd startled him when she began sniffling as she looked through the Velveteen Rabbit book. Concerned, he'd knelt down by her side as she explained that this had been Ashley's favorite bedtime story and that she'd made her mother buy her every stuffed rabbit she came across until she was ten in the hopes that one of them would come alive and play with her. That much loved book with its broken binding was still in Ashley's closed off bedroom at her sanctuary Helen sniffled louder as tears began to plop down onto her cheeks. Cupping her face, John had rested his forehead against hers and whispered that they would recover their firstborn in due course. He'd also grabbed a stuffed matching velveteen rabbit to place on top of the pile of books which had taken two trips to get to the cash register. His purchase was probably a week's worth of sales for the little family bookstore located across the corner from the baby store judging from the owner's lit up face. The jovial owner had given them the stuffed rabbit as a gift for the baby. The rabbit now rested on a shelf above the pegboard along with the pair of black suede boots lined with pink fur that had been John's first present to their youngest child.

Giving a loud yawn, Helen stretched out her arms and her right hand brushed against the item resting at the base of the bookshelf. She smiled and ran her hand along its soft fur head. It was the piece de résistance in the room. The one item the baby would probably enjoy the most when she was old enough to stand and grab onto things. James' gift to his goddaughter had been a stuffed rocking horse that matched the image of Ollie the horse in Helen's watercolor which hung centrally framed over the daybed. He had had it made in Scotland by a noted craftsman to look like a miniature version of the beloved gray, spotted horse. It even had the white crescent shape underneath its left eye like Ollie. When James had presented it to her, complete with a big pink bow wrapped around its neck, she had known it was a replica of her old steed and had thrown her arms around his neck and given him a big kiss on the lips. "You are too good to me," she praised and kissed him again. Behind her she'd heard someone clearing their throat and rumble, "Yes, yes, it's lovely. No need to get carried away." The pair had turned to smirk at John as he stood with his hands on his hips shaking his head at them.

"I'm just giving James a proper thank you for the excellent gift," she explained to her jealous partner. "The baby will love riding this. Ashley certainly loved hers."

"And he has been properly thanked. Now hands off the pregnant woman," John said as he separated the pair and clapped Watson firmly on the back. "It's fabulous," he said to his amused friend, "thank you." As he and Nick carried the surprisingly heavy item through the cellar and to the rail car John complained that the least James could have done was add wheels to the thing. "Yes, because we want our young daughter speeding down the hallway on a wheeled rocking horse," Helen had retorted with a laugh. "If she's anything like Ashley she'll find her own way to pursue mischief without the aid of a wheeled child's ride. Heaven help us all."

Helen's hand stroked the horse twice more before her hand slipped down slowly to fall by the recliner's side and her eyes fluttered closed as Morpheus finally came to claim her. Pleasant dreams of her children riding horses in a lavender field filled her head and one of the horses looking awfully familiar as it raced by her. Ashley's laughter as she called to her younger sibling to catch up with her was the last thing the tired mother could remember before all thought left her.


	56. Life with Children Part 1

Author's Note: Below are a few vignettes about Helen and John as parents to young children. The story will soon be skipping forward in time as the plan for saving Ashley is put into motion.

Chapter 56: Life with Children Part 1

**The Diaper Change**

A month had passed and the newest addition to the household was settling in quite well. Her parents, on the other hand, were learning to adjust to a stage in their lives where they were beholden to the whims and needs of a being that weighed less than eight pounds total. The baby had no use for time nor could she be reasoned with whenever she frustrated or confused her parents. The world revolved around her and the adults had to accept this fact without question.

A tired Helen nursed her little one every three to four hours and silently reflected on the similarities and differences between her first born and her second born. Ashley, once past her early illness, was a fairly easy baby to care for. She settled into a routine of sleep, eat and diaper change with regularity. Amelia was more demanding and unpredictable in comparison to her older sister. She had yet to settle into a definite routine and was showing signs of being colicky.

John, who had never experienced raising an infant before, was completely lost and had no clue what he was doing. His first foray in changing a diaper had been quite amusing for his mate. After days of watching her take care of their child he had insisted on having a turn at the task so Helen laid her daughter down onto the cushioned changing pad and moved aside to let the eager father take her place. Amelia had just been fed and was in a good temperament. She stared up at her parents with half drooped eyes and gummed on her fist peacefully. John couldn't have been handed a better moment to change his first diaper.

He carefully pulled apart the side tabs of the diaper and grabbed the baby's feet with his left hand per Helen's instruction and, leaning forward, was peeling down the front panel with his right hand when Amelia gave a little grunt. Helen's "Put the front panel back up!" came too late as the new father felt a warm stream splash onto his shirt and upper chest. Laughing, Helen reaching over and pulled the diaper up as the baby completed her urination.

Horrified, John stepped back, hands up in the air with palms flat, and looked down at his chest. "Ugh!" the incensed father cried, "she peed on me! Our daughter actually peed on me!"

Laughing again, Helen told him to be grateful Amelia wasn't a boy. Otherwise he would have gotten it right in the face. "That is not reassuring!" John grumbled and gave his daughter a grumpy look. She in turn seemed unimpressed at her parent's reaction and gave a wide sleepy yawn and shoved her other hand into her mouth to suck on. John stomped off to get a bath and clean change of clothing while his amused mate cleaned up her newborn and finished the diaper change. "You," Helen cooed to the sleepy babe in her arms, "are a very naughty little girl. You should have allowed your father one successful diaper change before piddling on him. That's what your sister did to your godfather."

A day later John announced he was ready to try again. This time he'd successfully accomplished the task and was quite proud of his feat. Helen refrained from snarking that he had merely changed a baby's diaper not completed one of Hercules' twelve labors. Supporting the baby against his left shoulder as he walked around her nursery, John rubbed his daughter's cheek and cooed at her "Your father is going to be a part of every stage of your life. What do you think of that, my little pet?"

Amelia stared up wide eyed at her father and made a little grunting noise. Taking it as agreement on her part John said, "That's right. Daddy's going to get everything right this time. Anything you need I will get for you." Scrunching up her tiny face the infant gave a long grunt followed by a little cry. "Oh, no," Helen shook her head and give a little laugh.

"What?" the confused father asked. "What's wrong…" he trailed off and waved at the air with his right hand. "Oh my God! What is that horrid smell?"

"That would be your daughter," Helen giggled. "She's apparently just messed up her diaper."

"But I just changed it!" he exclaimed. "How can she have peed again so soon?"

Waving her hand in front of her face as the smell wafted her way she coughed and explained, "I don't think she peed. Pooped would be more accurate. I'd put her on the changing table soon if I were you. She's consumed quite a lot of milk."

Too late the new father discovered as he felt a little dampness on his side. Quickly he laid the baby down onto the changing pad and looked at the brown, smelly substance on his shirt that looked suspiciously like diarrhea. "The baby must be sick," he declared with concern. "She's got diarrhea. There must be something wrong with your milk. What have you been eating, woman? "

"She does not have diarrhea and there's nothing wrong with my milk!" an irritated Helen countered and joined him at the changing table. "That's normal baby pooh." She undid his work with the diaper and both cringed at the mess in her diaper. There was quite a lot of it actually, and a bit had leaked down the infant's leg. "That is disgusting!" John cried and backed up a step. Gagging reflex kicking in, he bent over and gagged twice. Rolling her eyes at his reaction she set about wiping down her daughter, rolling up and tossing the wasted diaper into the trash and, placing another diaper under Amelia's bottom, picked her up and swiftly carried her down the hall to the bathroom on the other side of the play room.

She stripped the baby's top off and placed her into the little plastic bathing tub. Reaching to turn on the faucet and waiting for the water to adjust to the correct temperature she kept an eye on her daughter, who was not happy about suddenly being naked judging by her little whimpers. "I know you're cold," she said, "give mummy a minute to get the water ready for you."

By the time the grossed out father joined them Helen had Amelia in the bath and was washing her down with lavender scented baby wash. The big pout on the infant's face and the little tears in her eyes made obvious Amelia's feeling on the situation. "It's not that bad," she insisted to her little one. "You'll sleep better after your bath and smell good as you do so."

"Okay, this is a conspiracy," the redressed man accused and glared at Helen. "I've seen you change her diaper a number of times and she's not relieved herself on you. Why is she targeting me?"

"Karma?" Helen smirked back. At his glowering she added, "Practice. I've had a lot of practice with Henry and then Ashley. You'll get the hang of it with time."

"Not if she has her way," he complained and pointed at the little offender in the tub.

"She's just a baby," Helen shot back, annoyed at his childishness. "She's an equal opportunity mess maker."

"I'll believe that when she piddles on you," he whined. His grumpiness melted away as his little girl looked up at him with a tearful face and trembling lips. She gave loud cry and held up her little fists as if to plead with him to pick her up. "She's chilly. We should put her into some warm clothes," he decided and grabbed a towel with both hands.

Helen lifted the baby out of her tub and handed her to her father. "Diaper and jammies," she commanded and turned back to rinse out the bath and put away the bath supplies.

"Diaper and jammies," John mumbled as he wrapped the towel around his daughter and carried her back to her nursery. Only her face peeking out of her wrapping, Amelia gave him a little whimper of protest. "Be a good girl and let daddy put a diaper on you without getting making a mess," he begged. "Please. Your mother's already gotten two incidents to rat me out to your godfather about. Don't give her a third."

Three minutes later Helen entered the nursery to find John sitting in the recliner rocking their daughter, who was wearing a clean sleeper with fuzzy socks on her feet and a little cap on her head. Amelia's eyes were half closed and her thumb securely in her mouth. Sitting down on the daybed Helen stretched out and laid down on her side. "See, I told you you'd get the hang of it. You just need a little practice," she teased.

"I'll gladly take all the practice I can get," he softly rumbled and bent to give his child a kiss on her forehead. Being a father was a lot harder than he'd expected. And far more rewarding than he could ever hope for. Straightening, he turned to his left and said, "Let's make another one."

She laughed. "Get me pregnant again and you're a dead man. And that's a promise."

He winked back at her. "Might be worth it."

"Dream on," she retorted and gave a yawn. She'd forgotten how exhausting raising children could be. "We're far too old to be having a houseful of ankle biters. This one will require all of our attention if she's half the mischief maker her older sister was."

He frowned as he looked down at the sleeping angel in his arms. "Ashley's not going to be happy about having a sibling, is she?"

"She already has a sibling," Helen answered with another yawn. "His name is Henry. And no, she's not going to be over the moon about having another one. I believe her response would be along the lines of 'Oh, Hell no.'" She paused and, seeing his concerned expression as he stared down at the baby, added, "She'll warm up to Amelia once the shock wears off. Give her a little time. She'll be dealing with a lot when she joins us. A new home, us back together, you no longer being a crazed maniac…"

"I could have done without the crazed maniac comment," he sniffed.

"It will all work out, John. We have to take it one day at a time." He nodded and shifted the precious bundle into a more comfortable angle. One day at a time. He knew it was going to take time for Ashley to come to accept him as anything other than her insane, deadbeat father. He hoped that her seeing him with Amelia would change her poor impression of him and cause her to give him a chance to be a true father to her. He wanted nothing more than to be a good father to both of his offspring.

**Baby's First Steps**

It was a most relaxing evening. A fire was crackling in the oversized fireplace and throwing warm shadows around the long rectangular room. James was resting in a comfortable arm chair with his feet propped up on a matching ottoman. In his lap was one of the old books from the library down the hall. Once John had removed the body of the fallen man from the library and he and Nick had removed the heavy debris, the lad had reinforced the support beam with a new column. Lucy had enthusiastically declared the space was hers and set about cleaning it up. No easy feat by any means. The vacuuming and dusting alone took days. Never did she fret or complain. For her it was a kin to an archaeological excavation and each new find was exciting. James received regular updates from her coded in their private language and found himself wishing he were there with her.

Knowing his time to die was approaching in less than four years changed his perspective on things. At the London Sanctuary he focused on making sure Declan received all the mentoring he needed to take over while trying to keep his boredom at bay. He was surprised to discover that his heart was yearning to be at Avalon with the rest of his unorthodox family. If he could have Declan there too his family would have been complete. As it were he would have to make the best of the limited time he was allotted in Avalon. John's teleporting ability had come in handy for those short trips when he could get away from the drudgery of the London Sanctuary.

His reverie was interrupted by an excited man's "She's going to do it!" Turning to his right James saw John seated on the floor, long legs sprawled to one side, and smiling at the little being across the carpet. At almost nine months, Amelia was a most stunning baby. Golden blonde curls wisped around her head and her eyes had settled into the grey-blue color of her father's eyes. The dimples on her chubby cheeks were reminiscent of her mother's, as was her bow of a mouth. Tiny sapphire studs glittered on her earlobes and had been the source of a loud disagreement between her stubborn parents. Helen had gotten the child's ears pierced without her father's consent and the big lug had thrown a temper tantrum about it. That behind them, they were now trying to attract the child's attention in the hopes that they would be the recipient of the child's first steps.

Waving, John called to his daughter. "Amelia, come to daddy. Come on, you know you can do it." Seated a foot away, Helen held out her arms and said, "Come to mummy, luv. I'm right here." The child turned her head from parent to parent trying to decide whether she wanted to let go of the couch and walk the two feet across the carpet to one of them. She took one clumsy step away from the couch, promptly lost her grip and fell flat on her padded bottom.

The surprised look on her face caused the adults to laugh. "It's alright, darling," Helen reassured her. "You're okay. Come on, come to mummy." Amelia's bottom lip slid up over her top in a large pout and she gave a loud whine.

"Come to daddy and I'll make it better," John promised and scooted forward to reduce the distance between him and his little girl.

"Hey," Helen exclaimed and shot him a disgruntled look. "That's cheating. We agreed to let her come to the parent of her choice."

"And she will," he shot back with a smug look. "If I just happen to be a little closer well so be it." Turning back to face his daughter John once again tried to entice her to walk his way.

James gave a snort of laughter. "I never thought I would see you two on the floor pleading with a baby to choose you over the other." At the sound of his laugh Amelia looked his way and gave a little smile. Lifting her bottom in the air, she pushed herself up and began quickly crawling his way. Chuckling as her parents groaned and tried getting her attention back Watson marveled how fast his godchild could move across the floor. Lowering his legs from the ottoman, he leaned forward and presented his hands to the adorable little one who swiftly grabbed hold of an index finger on each hand. Slowly lifting his hands up James helped support Amelia as she stood upright and giggled at him with both dimples on full display.

"That's much better, right my little one?" he cooed at the baby and laughed as she giggled at him again.

"James," her father whined. "We were trying to get her to take her first official steps. You're ruining the moment."

"Heaven forbid," James mumbled loudly and rolled his eyes at his best friend. Carefully he turned Amelia around without breaking her hold on his fingers so that she faced her parents. "See those two on the ground. They're your silly parents and they're desperate for you to take your first steps to them. Best do it soon or we'll never get any peace. Especially from the big goofy one on the right."

Amelia had no idea what her godfather was saying but she giggled anyway and took a step toward the pair seated on the ground. Then another. Hunched over, James allowed her to pull him forward as he stretched his arms. She was loosening her grip on his fingers with each step as her confidence grew and her focus was on reaching her grinning parents. Another step and Watson's arms were as far as they could reach without him standing up and moving forward. As the baby took another step he slid his fingers free and flopped back into his seat before losing his balance with a loud grunt.

Support system gone, Amelia's little hands fisted as she tottered forward unsteadily toward the adult before her. One step wobbling to the right… another step wobbling to the left… and one more step and then with a cry of "Da!" she fell into her father's outstretched arms.

"That's my girl!" John cried happily and crushed his daughter to him. Lifting her up, he showered her pudgy stomach with kisses and was rewarded with squeals of laughter. "I knew you'd take your first steps to your old father!"

Helen gave an incredulous laugh and looked over at James. He'd purposely walked Amelia towards her father. Raising an eyebrow back at her he gave her a look that clearly said, "Hey, it was either let her walk to her father or we have to listen to him whine about it for hours."

She turned back to her left as Amelia cried "Aha!" and held out her chubby arms to her mother. The baby couldn't pronounce the "m" sound for mama so she called her "Aha" instead. Helen clapped her hands together and then held them out invitingly to the baby. Grinning, Amelia waddled out of her father's arms, took two unsteady steps forward and fell into her mother's outstretched arms. "Good girl," the proud mother praised and plied kisses onto her giggling daughter's cheek and neck. "You'll be running around terrorizing the household in no time."

"We need to get her a tricycle," John announced suddenly. "All children like tricycles, right?"

"Yes, but one thing at a time," Helen laughed. "Learn to walk first, and then she can learn to ride a tricycle."

"And after that she can learn to ride a Harley and drive off to meet some silly boy on the sly and ride off into the sunset with him," James heckled from his chair. "Won't that be fun?"

"The hell she will," John growled and grabbed his daughter from her mother's lap. Standing her up, he seriously informed her that "under no circumstances are you to run off with some worthless idiot, young lady."

Helen gave a laugh and shook her head at him. James Watson could be very naughty when he wanted to be. "Don't egg him on," she warned Watson. "He'll have her locked up in the tower before she's fifteen."

With her beautiful eyes open wide, Amelia shook her head at her father and gave him a dimpled grin as she reached out and grabbed a hold of his bottom lip. She giggled as he tried to talk while she hung on tight to his lip.

Beaming down at the little girl, James said, "Oh, I think she'll be okay. Looks to me like she knows how to shut the big ox up just fine all on her own."

Helen pried her daughter's tight grip on John's lip free and laughed as he rubbed at his bruised mouth. "She has quite the grip for such a small being," John groaned and eyed the child grumpily.

"Just wait until she's learned martial arts and how to shoot firearms," Helen retorted with a smirk. Amelia grinned at her father, flashing the evidence of two tiny front teeth, as if to say, "Yeah dad, just you wait."

"Karma," James teased his old friend as he lifted his book back into his lap. "You are going to be so screwed when that one reaches adulthood."


	57. Life with Children Part 2

Chapter 57: Life with Children Part 2

**Like Mother Like Daughter**

Though they had taken residence in Avalon for safety reason, Helen wanted her child to be familiar with their surroundings and enjoy the pleasures that modern society offered. She didn't want Amelia to shy away from the world, but rather to be a bit more cautious than her older impetuous sibling had been. Therefore, over John's initial protests, they were carrying the almost a year old into the city for her first big adventure.

Pushing the front passenger seat as far forward as possible for maximum leg room, John patiently rode in the seat behind it in Helen's new SUV and tried to refrain from making derogatory remarks about the slowness of car travel. It was less than a thirty minute ride into the city anyway. And it was evident from the look on Helen's face that she missed being behind the wheel.

Amelia, on the other hand, wasn't been too happy about being strapped into her new car seat nor having to sit behind her mother. She had thrown her toy onto the floor twice, ignored her father's attempt to soothe her once she realized he wasn't going to remove her from her restraints, and repeatedly declared her unhappy opinion of "No!" which was currently her favorite word after "mama," "mine," "milk," and "book." Her whining ceased once the vehicle moved at a quick speed and John watched in amusement as his daughter's eyes grew large and she stared out the window at the scenery flying by. Her parents laughed as she squealed and pointed when she spotted several horses behind a wire fence while the car stopped for a stop sign. "We'll get you a pony when you're older," her father teased and reached over to stroke her golden head.

"I feel like a chauffeur," Helen cracked as she stared briefly at her family in the rear view mirror.

John snickered. "Can the chauffeur keep her eyes on the road? She's driving precious cargo back here."

"I am a fantastic driver I'll have you know," she retorted as she signaled a lane change and smoothly whipped around a slower car. Being behind the wheel of a fast vehicle was invigorating for the speed junky but with her baby in the car Helen was making sure she drove carefully within the speed limits posted on the signs that flew by as the SUV made its way to the nearest mall.

"That's not what James says," he reminded her.

It was two weeks until Christmas and at 8:30 on a Tuesday morning Helen was hoping they would be too early to encounter the large crowds that trolled the mall at this time of year. Amelia's little head twisted from side to side as she took in all the bright displays and loud sounds of Christmas music being pumped in from invisible speakers throughout the huge space. John kept a firm arm around the toddler and carried the necessary baby bag on his other broad shoulder.

As they approached their first stop the child gave an excited squeal and pointed at the moving objects. "Go!" she exclaimed to her parent's amusement. "We are, pet," John answered and had to adjust as she squirmed in his arms trying to get down. "Settle down, we're almost there," he ordered and stepped through the gateway as Helen held open the metal gate. It closed behind them with a loud bang.

Amelia's feet had barely touched the ground before she was off running toward the biggest item in the children's play area. Two large figures followed in her wake. "It's amazing how such tiny legs can move so fast when they want to," he mused. "And how slowly they move when completing chores are involved," his companion amiably contributed. They had almost reached the children's carousel when their daughter swiftly scrambled up into one of the seats, nudging an older child aside that had been trying to get into the same seat. "Mine!" she declared with a scowl and held up her hand to block his attempt to climb in again. "Mine!"

"I want the racecar!" the boy who looked to be close to two years old whined and called for his mommy.

"She's ours alright," John chuckled.

"Indeed," Helen agreed before rushing over to carousel. "I'm sorry," she apologized to the upset child's mother. "She's never ridden on a carousel before and is a little excited."

"It's okay," the younger woman said as she tried to hush her fussing child. "We were going anyway." The child began to wail louder. Taking in the woman's young age and the inexpensive clothing she and her son was wearing Helen surmised that money might be a factor in their departure. "Please don't leave on our account," she encouraged pleasantly. "There are five other seats available. There's no reason for them to go empty," she rationalized as she pulled out money from her purse. The boy pulled away from his mother before she could demure and scrambled into the train in front of Amelia. Feeding a few bills into the machine Helen laughed as the children banged impatiently on the horns on their steering wheels and pushed numerous musical buttons on their dashboards. And with a loud roar the ride began.

Stepping back she joined John off to the side and together they waved at their happy child as the tune of _Pop goes the Weasel_ filled the air. After two rounds the machine stopped and Amelia gave her parents a big pout and pleaded "more, mummy!" "More!" the boy named Braeden agreed and dodged his mother's attempt to grab him by climbing through the center of the carousel to sit down into another seat, this time in a submarine.

"Want to ride another one," John suggested to his little girl and pointed to the carriage seat that was attached to a seahorse. He moved with her around to the other side using his large body as a protective block to prevent her falling off the platform. Helen feed more money into the machine and off the laughing children went on another round, this time to the tune of the _Wheels on the Bus_.

"I hate that song," the young mother confessed with a little laugh.

"I think every parent comes to hate that song," Helen agreed.

Another 10 minutes passed with multiple seat changes before the three parents decided they'd had enough. "No!" Amelia sniffed as her father scooped her out of the racecar. "More, daddy, more," she pleaded and gave him her sad puppy dog look.

"You'll get more," he promised, turning them away from the ride. "How about a train ride, huh? I bet you'll love that. Your old father loved trains when he was a boy. Course, I never had anything like this," he shared as he stopped at the 5 seat caterpillar-shaped children's train and lowered her down into the front seat.

"Go!" the child squealed eagerly and rocked back and forth in her seat in attempt to get the train moving. Hearing scuffling to his left John discovered Braeden climbing in behind his new friend, along with two siblings who had just arrived on the scene. Smiling at the happy children Helen feed bills into the machine and once again joined John and the other mothers off to the side where they all participated in waving at their giggling offspring as they rode up and down shallow curves on a circular track.

Amelia herself led the way to the next of the seven motion rides followed by the other children who had quickly figured out that they could get free rides if they stuck with her. It was quite a sight watching the little group of older children following behind the little golden haired child in her little designer black long sleeved top with leopard trim and matching pants. On her feet were the black boots with pink trim that had been her first gift from her father. Amelia, who at 11 months had no experience interacting with other children, seemed to enjoy her playtime with peers closer to her own age. Eventually, however, the little one ran out of steam and came to wrap her arms around her mother's leg. Looking up she tiredly requested "milk, mummy."

Scooping her up, Helen gave her baby a kiss on her flushed cheeks. "It about time for an early lunch," she said and indicated to John they were ready to head out. He picked up the baby bag and stood up from the bench where he was resting to fall into step with his family. As they headed toward the metal gate that separated the children's play area from the rest of the mall he heard the oldest boy exclaim, "Aw, man, she's leaving," followed by a chorus of groans. Apparently other parents did not spend the amount of cash on the mechanical rides that Helen had spent this morning judging by the other children's freeloading off of his daughter.

In the food court, Helen situated Amelia into a booster seat and gave the fussy child a baby bottle of apple juice to quench her thirst while John made the rounds to the various fast food restaurants. They passed away the time talking about the rides in the playground and Helen laughed as her little one emphatically declared "me like da car" in reference to the racecar from the carousel she had ridden first. Amelia was at the stage where she used "me" rather than "I" and it always cracked her parents up. "Oh," she smiled, "you are your mummy's little mini me, aren't?" and got a vigorous nod in reply.

A tall shadow fell briefly over them and they looked up to find John carrying a large tray loaded down with food and drinks. He distributed the food around the table, placed the empty tray on a nearby table, and folded himself down into a seat on the other side of his daughter and across from his partner. Pushing the half empty baby bottle out of the way, Helen placed the colorful sack in front of her curious child who immediately knocked it over to pull out its contents. Shaking the small milk carton before stabbing a straw inside, her mother pointed to the sack and explained "this is what is known as a happy meal… and it comes with a special toy." Ignoring the waffle fries and box of chicken nuggets Amelia zeroed in on the plastic blue package and shook it as she held it close to her face. Through the plastic she could make out an illustration of a dog and squealed "book!"

Thrilled with his daughter's love of reading like him, John quickly unwrapped the small board book and consented to her request of "read, daddy!" while she joyfully smashed her fries and nuggets into the ketchup her mother had set out and ate away.

Digging into her own plate of Chinese food Helen smiled as John read the book a second time for their little bibliophile. Amelia had ketchup smeared all around her mouth and was happy as a clam and Helen had a moment of déjà vu as she was stuck by the resemblance to Ashley at the same age. Her throat tightened and she blinked repeatedly while she pushed down the longing for her oldest child. It had been almost 6 years since that night when Ashley sacrificed herself to save her mother. It had also been over 13 months since she'd caught a glimpse of Ashley in her Halloween costume the night she and John had returned through the time portal and reunited with Watson.

"Helen," John's voice suddenly cut through her distant thoughts, "Are you alright?" He'd noticed the way her face had fallen as she stared at their youngest and her eyes had gotten watery.

"I'm fine," she assured him and looked away. When it was clear he didn't believe her she distracted him by suggesting they give their daughter a sample of their food. "It's good to try new things," Helen counseled Amelia as she placed a small pile of noodles, rice and a piece of sweet and sour chicken before her. Amelia scooped up a spoonful up into her mouth, dropping half of its contents down the front of her blouse and into her lap, and murmured "yummy." Good thing she's wearing black her mother thought and grabbed a napkin to pick up what she could of the mess. The rest would have to be brushed off whenever the toddler stood up.

Her father received the opposite reaction as she spit out the quarter of sushi he had presented her. "Yucky," she announced and wrinkled her little nose up in distaste. "It's an acquired taste," he acknowledge as he picked the slobbery discarded piece off the cuff of his shirt. "We'll find another one you'll like next time."

Traffic was picking up in the mall now that it was close to 11 am. They lazily ushered their tiring child towards the elevator to return to the lower level of the mall. Amelia pressed her face and hands against the glass railing while waiting for the elevator car to reach them. The activity below caused her eyes to widen with excitement. "Go!" she exclaimed and banged repeatedly on the glass to show her parents what she wanted. John and Helen leaned forward to stare down at what had caused such a reaction in their daughter. "Oh my," she said with a laugh. "Well, it is almost Christmas," he sighed. "Shall we?" They both looked down at their daughter whose face was pressed against the glass again. "Why not," she shrugged. Maybe it would go better than it did with Ashley.

Then again, maybe not. As they got close to the brightly decorated house Amelia took off to the right and had to be grabbed around the waist by her father. "Where are you going, pet?" he asked as he walked back toward the holiday display. "Santa's this way." He came to a stop behind the ropes and pointed to the round figure seated on the oversized chair not ten feet away. "See? That's Santa. Want to go meet him and get your picture taken?"

Unfortunately, the child currently seated on Santa's lap began to bawl for its mother and Amelia jerked back in her father's arms to give him a scared wide-eyed look. "No!" she cried and shook her head. She then turned her head toward the direction she'd been running when her father had nabbed her. "Go!" she commanded and poked her finger in the air animatedly.

"Go where?" he asked, turning to look in that direction, and his mouth dropped open in surprise.

"So that's what she wanted," he heard Helen laugh to his right. They had just assumed the child had seen Santa and wanted to visit. Not so.

"Go!" Amelia cried and squirmed out in her father's arms to almost drop to the ground. He managed to catch her before she fell and had barely placed her on the ground before she broke free and ran toward the object of her desire.

"Amelia!" her parents yelled and rushed to follow. They caught up with her at the white picket gate where she was pulling at the door while a young man was trying to tell her that she couldn't enter without her parent's permission. Ignoring him, the child skirted around him to another section of the fence and poked her hand inside the narrow slats. She giggled as several wet tongues licked at her hand.

The young man looked relieved at her parents' approach. The child let out a blood curdling cry at being picked up by her mother who moved them away from the noisy creatures. "No!" Amelia cried. "Me want puppy!"

"Darling, we can't take a puppy home," her mother gently tried to explain.

"Please?" she begged and gave her mother a huge pout. "Please!"

Helen sighed at her baby's pleading. Normally it amused her to hear Amelia's "please" which sounded like "peas" whenever she said it but it never made her happy to disappoint her child. There was no way they could take on a puppy while living in Avalon. And they certainly couldn't take one back to the Old City Sanctuary when they were able to finally return. Ashley's three pets in the forms of a frog, a lizard and a gold fish had met unfortunate endings there.

Overhearing, the young attendant interjected. "Actually, this is a fundraiser for the local animal sanctuary. You don't have to adopt one of the puppies… although we would be thrilled if you did. We're offering ten minute play times with the animals in exchange for a donation." He indicated a sign taped to the table off to the left of the gate. "We're in desperate need of a new roof and any little donation would be of help," the older lady at the table added and gave them a hopeful smile.

Helen and John read the sign and both thought independently that "a little donation" was an understatement. $50 for a 10 minute romp with puppies was a bit steep.

"It's for a good cause," the woman declared when she saw the pair's hesitancy. "We're a no kill shelter and we've saved hundreds of animals over the years. We just really need a new roof. A leaky one isn't very healthy for the cats and dogs."

Helen's shoulders drooped following the musical chants of "peas!" in her ear and she sighed as she set her pleading child down. "We'll take 10 minutes," she caved and reached for her purse. She cringed as Amelia's shriek of excitement pierced her eardrums followed by a chorus of excited barks and howls. "Calm down," she ordered and was completely ignored. While she paid the entrance fee John wiped down his daughter's hands with the hand cleanser sheet the male attendant had offered. John then lifted her over the three foot picket fence and carefully placed her down inside the 10 x 10 temporary pen. Six puppies of varying breeds immediately set upon her with wet tongues and furry paws going everywhere.

Helen joined him and together they stared down at their happy offspring who was having a blast with the wiggly balls of fur. Keeping his eyes focused on her in case the dogs were to knock her down he remarked, "You do realize she's going to have a fit when we take her away from her new friends."

"I know," she nodded morosely. "This isn't my first rodeo you know." He shot her a frown at her reminder that she'd raised another offspring before. His absence in Ashley's life would always be a sore spot for them all.

"Perhaps a stuffed puppy could help ease the sorrow of parting?" Molly the attendant suggested and waved her hand over a display of four stuffed dogs. "Just $20 and you can have the one of your choice… or two or three," she pitched in her best salesman mode.

"Let me guess," John said dryly, "it's for a good cause."

Ignoring the sarcasm Molly nodded vigorously. "It is." She glanced over to the child, who had picked up the tiniest of the puppies, and suggested getting the Yorkie since that was the breed the child seemed to favor.

"This trip is turning out to be more expensive than taking Ashley and Henry to the toy store when they were children. And that's saying something," she muttered and went to pay for the toy.

"It's for a good cause," John retorted over his shoulder and got a dirty look from the mother of his child.

A crowd was gathering around the pen to ooh and aww over the pooches and the little golden child playing with them. A few of the parents compliment Helen and John on their beautiful little girl and neither could hide the surge of pride they felt over their littlest offspring.

The ten minutes were soon over and as predicted Amelia didn't want to leave. "Mine!" she wailed as her father wrestled the puppy from her arms and then quickly lifted her out of the pen.

"Yours," her mother said and shoved the stuffed Yorkie into Amelia's arms.

Surprised, Amelia stopped wailing and asked "Mine?"

"Yours," her father repeated as he swiftly walked them in the opposite direction of the animals. "What are you going to name him?"

"Puppy," Amelia answered and gave a big yawn. It was past her nap time and she crushed the toy to her chest and nuzzled her head into her father's shoulder. She was asleep before they had even made it to the mall exit doors.

"We should get one of those," John murmured as they passed a mother pushing a large stroller with a chubby toddler.

"Why do I need a stroller?" Helen replied and rubbed his shoulder with her right hand. "I have you."


	58. Life with Children Part 3

Author's Note: Below is the last of the vignettes featuring Helen and John as parents to young children. The next chapter will be skipping forward in time as the plan for saving Ashley is put into motion.

Chapter 58: Life with Children Part 3

**Puppy Love**

Six months had passed since the mall visit and the stuffed dog lie among the growing pile of toys Amelia was acquiring from her loved ones. Helen was in the kitchen distractedly making her daughter's lunch while at the same time musing over the large old text spread open on the counter. If everything written on the page was true they were in possession of a very rare and special abnormal. In the next room, which was open to the kitchen, Amelia sat in one of the three cushioned chairs arranged around her little play table. Her eyes were glued to the television on the opposite wall where a children's program was playing. Helen bustled over to place down the tuna sandwich and apple slices before her daughter along with her Sippy cup of milk.

She was hunched over the book still engrossed in the journal's description of the creature when she became aware of her daughter's babbling in the other room. "Puppy!" Amelia exclaimed again. "Look, mummy, puppy likes milk too." Helen turned to see what it was on television that had her child so excited and almost knocked over her glass of tea. "What the hell?" she exclaimed as her eyes fairly bugged out.

Amelia was feeding the creature milk from her Sippy cup and making quite a messy of a job of it. Milk dribbled down its furry chin and over the bandaging around its upper body. It was making happy smacking sounds and leaned in closer to the child.

Striding over quickly to the table Helen put her hands on her hips and stared down at the pair. "How in the world did you get out of your cage?" she asked aloud. The creature, who Lucy had named Toby, blinked up at her with its one good eye and gave a little "meep" sound that came across like a casual "I don't know."

"Milk's good," Amelia praised, not picking up on her mother's distress, and took a large drink from the Sippy cup. The creature gave a low whine and was rewarded with another drink of milk.

"Oh, no, no, no, no," Helen muttered and reached for the cup. She was just learning what it was thanks to the journal Lucy had found in the library this morning and wasn't willing to risk Amelia catching anything from it by sharing a drinking cup.

"Mummy!" Amelia pouted as her mother took her cup into the kitchen.

"Let me just get you and your new friend some more milk," Helen called out over her shoulder. Tossing the Sippy cup into the sink she grabbed a clean one from the dishwasher and then dug through a drawer for one of Amelia's old newborn bottles. By the time she'd return to the table Amelia and the creature were eating wedges of tuna sandwiches. She placed the Sippy cup in front of her child and, sitting down on her knees, the doctor placed the bottle on the table in front of the creature. He bore the form of any ordinary river otter pup but there were striking differences. The most notable being his cinnamon coloring and ice blue eyes. A lighter shade of cinnamon circled his muzzle from which long black whiskers drooped down. His ears were bigger than a regular otter with a trim of snowy tuft of white fur. Once again she thought what a beautiful creature he would be when healthy. Currently his fur was dull with thin patches scattered about, his upper torso was wrapped up in a bandage to cover a large wound healing on his chest, and the left eye was swollen shut.

"How did you get out of your cage, hmmm?" she asked again softly. The one good eye looked up at her and she saw in it an intelligence that was aware of where it was and what was happening around it. The old journal, which reminded Helen a lot of her father's, had described the creature as having a very high IQ. It gave her a little squeak and pawed the air with both its paws to indicate it wanted more food. She held the bottle out to it and smiled as the creature clamped both hands around it and began to drink greedily.

"He nice puppy," Amelia commented and reached over to give him a pat on the head.

"So it seems," her mother agreed. "He is in need of a good bath though." Eyeing her daughter, who had a milk ring around her mouth and tuna down the front of her shirt, she added, "As do you." She'd forgotten to put a bib on the child. Darn. Helen withdrew her tiring arm and the creature lay back against its chair to hold onto the bottle with all four paws while it finished off the milk. She would have to create a more nutritious formula for it besides cow's milk, which it probably shouldn't be drinking in large quantities. She didn't need the journal's information to know that the creature was malnourished, which wasn't any wonder given the abuse it had suffered in captivity.

"You took Toby out of his cage," Lucy said in surprise as she came into the kitchen. "I thought you wanted to wait to make sure he wasn't diseased or dangerous."

"He let himself out of his cage," Helen answered and groaned as she stood up and heard her knees pop. "The question is how."

"He did? Why, Toby, you cleaver little boy," Lucy said and bent down to rub his head. She'd been the one to find him and had taken to the little creature immediately. He gave a little burp, dropped the empty bottle, and flopped back spread eagle with a look of contentment on his furry little face.

"He not Toby," Amelia disagreed as she handed him another wedge of tuna. "He Puppy."

"Oh, sweetie, he's not a puppy," Lucy clarified with a shake of her head. "He's a special kind of abnormal otter."

"No," Amelia stubbornly insisted, "He name Puppy!"

"Okay," Lucy laughed and held up her hands in defeat. "His name can be Puppy if you like." She went back into the kitchen where she found Helen on the laptop going through the security footage. Finding what she wanted, Helen rewound the footage and together they watched as the creature slipped his paw through the cage slat, reach over to the key pad and push in the correct 3 buttons in the correct order.

"Oh, you are a clever boy," Lucy repeated in awe. She knew when she'd found him that he was special.

"A little too clever," Helen retorted. He'd only been with them for four days and in that time he'd figured out how to turn off the alarm on his medium sized cage. There was no telling what else the creature could learn to do. They both turned back to the family room where Amelia had climbed up on the daybed and was engrossed in an episode of Scooby Doo on the TV. Curled up against her was the creature and Amelia's arm was around him.

"Looks like she got the puppy she wanted after all," Lucy observed. "Aw, aren't they cute?"

"And he's not housebroken either," Helen said with a sigh. "He can't just wander around the place freely."

Lucy's nose crinkled up as she got thoughtful. "Don't we still have a few newborn diapers in the playroom?"

"Surely you're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" Helen asked her with a raised eyebrow.

"Why not?" she shrugged. "You just feed him with a newborn baby bottle."

"Touché," the older woman answered.

Four hours later John and Nick returned from their work on the lower level where they were shoring up some rotted timber and reinforcing the security of an exterior entrance. After the discovery of the dead man on the far side of the low riverbed they'd been checking all the levels for any signs of security breaches. Four days ago one of the security alarms had triggered and John, Nick and Lucy had set off to find the source. The latter against the express orders of her older brother. After an hour they'd discovered a grizzly abnormal human with long, sharp talons dead at the base of a rocky slope with his gear and belongings tossed around him. It appeared he had been trying to scale the mountainside to an opening at the top. Based on the fur pelts strapped to his person he had been trapping various creatures in his travels through the mountain. So they weren't alone in mountain after all.

Lucy had been the one to hear the soft pitiful cry from nearby. After peering through the various wooden cages she'd discovered one of the creatures was still alive. She'd opened the cage before the men could stop her and found one of the baby otters still alive. The rest of its siblings had already died. The whelp had a nasty cut on its chest and stank of dried blood and excrement. When it opened its one good eye to look at her and give another cry of distress Lucy's heart broke for the creature and she pulled off her scarf to wrap it up in the warmth of the fleece. She then gave both men a defiant look that dared them to tell her not to take it. Neither did, instead they completed their survey of the area, took the weapons off the dead man and followed her back home.

As those men now entered the kitchen and walked toward the sound of the television Nick, who had come into the kitchen second, crashed into the larger man when he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. "What the…" Nick grunted and turned to see what had startled the older man. His mouth too dropped open at the sight.

"Tell me I'm hallucinating," John said out of the side of his mouth to the younger man.

"If so then so am I," he muttered back.

"Hello, gentlemen," Lucy greeted from the floor of the family room. She was sitting cross legged at Amelia's play table spoon feeding the wounded creature she'd found. It was wearing a pink baby shirt that stated "Daddy's little angel" with a big bib around its neck. Right next to it Amelia was wearing a similar bib and happily scooping cut up spaghetti into her mouth.

"Hi, daddy! Hi, Nick!" Amelia greeted with a wave of her fork. "Look, Puppy likes pa-sketti too."

"Puppy?" both men repeated in unison.

"She's named him Puppy," Lucy informed them with a laugh as she feed another spoonful to the eager creature.

"That can't be good," John muttered and stepped closer for a better look.

Leaning to the side Nick took a closer look too. "Is he wearing a diaper under that shirt?"

"He is," Lucy giggled.

"Until he's housebroken he'll have to wear a diaper," Helen said as she came up behind them.

Turning to her, John gave her a raised eyebrow. "Luv, if you wanted another child you should have said something."

"Har har," she snickered back and pointed at him. "I told you what would happen if you ever got me pregnant again." He merely smirked back at her in response.

"Why exactly is…" Nick paused, "Puppy… why did you take him out of his cage?"

"We didn't," Helen and Lucy answered together. Over dinner the four adults discussed the new member of their household and the journal Lucy had found. Finally, John asked the question both he and Nick had been pondering. "What are we going to do with him?"

They all turned to stare at the creature. The otter newly named Puppy was curled up on the daybed with its front paws hugging Amelia's velveteen rabbit to its chest. Beside him, Amelia was reading one of her small board books. She didn't actually know how to read so it went something like "Once a time dare was a puppy… the end!"

Lucy smirked and lifted her wine glass in a mock toast. "I think someone's already decided what she's going to do with him."

"She gets that from her mother," John remarked with a shake of his head. "My side of the family only kept normal, everyday cats. The weird creatures are on the Magnus side of the family tree."

"You're a weird creature from your side of the family tree," Helen said with an overly sweet smile. "Thus, your argument is invalid."

The two siblings exchanged sideway glances and tried not to laugh at the older couple's exchange of barbs. One thing John and Helen weren't was boring.

Six weeks later John found himself in the kitchen preparing the evening's meal. They took turns in the household cooking and as it turned out Montague John Druitt was a pretty good cook. He'd even taken to watching the Food Network, which slightly weirded out the mother of his child whenever a lot of knife chopping was involved. On this evening he was preparing fresh tilapia with a mango chutney sauce. He moved toward the stove to turn over the fish as he argued with the hairball following him around. "It's not ready yet," he groused and shot an annoyed look at the creature glued to his side.

The creature made several squeaking noises and continued to look up at him hopefully. "It's not ready," John repeated. "You don't want to eat it raw, do you?" The creature simply blinked at him and bowed its head as if it understood what he said. "Tough. I'm serving the fish when it's done and not before then. Don't you have some toys to play with? Go nag your playmate and leave me alone." He stepped around the creature, thinking if he stepped on it… again… that the women would have a fit… again. At his height it wasn't easy not stepping on the 3.5 pound mobile ball of fur. On the wide island he distributed the white plates on the counter and carefully placed mounds of rice to one side before adding the side dish of garlic mash potatoes. Feeling a tugging on his pant leg, he sighed and looked down to find Puppy looking up at him anxiously. Between its front paws it was holding a bib, which it had come to associate with food since each time he and Amelia ate a bib would be fastened around their necks. Raising an eyebrow at it, he taunted, "What makes you think any of this is for you anyway, huh? All you're getting is a nice bottle of formula."

The loud sizzling from the grill pan alerted him the fish would burn soon if he didn't get it off the burner and once again he stepped around the creature. Quickly he flipped off the burner and hurried back to the island with the fish. As he began placing fish on each plate a low pitched wailing that sounded eerily like a baby came from behind him. "Puppy!" he growled in warning. The wailing got higher. Frustrated, he looked down and barked "You are not the baby!"

Puppy responded by wailing even louder as he held up the bib as high as he could, which wasn't very high given his short arms. John huffed out a loud breath and muttered, "Dear Lord!" Grabbing the bib from the creature's hands he snapped it closed around its neck, placed a piece of fish onto a small plate and walked over to Amelia's play table to set it down. Hands on hips, he stared down as Puppy eagerly wiggled into a chair and tore pieces of fish with both paws. The creature looked up briefly to squeeze its eyes shut in appreciation before stuffing its face.

John stiffened as a familiar guffawing rang out behind him. Sighing, he slowly pivoted around and found James standing in the doorway laughing his head off. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen," he snickered with a little shake of his head. "Nursemaid to an otter now, are we?"

"Oh, shut up," John retorted and stalked back to the kitchen to finish up the dinner preparations.

Still snickering, James walked through the archway into the family room to take a closer look at the little creature to whom Lucy had taken such a strong fancy. It paused eating and gave him an alarmed look. "It's alright," James gently assured him. "I'm no threat to you. Lucy talks about you often and I wanted to make your acquaintance."

Puppy tilted his head, gave the newcomer a long appraising stare with its pair of ice blue eyes, and finally gave a little squeak of greeting. He then picked up the remainder of his fish and continued to eat. James smiled. The otter was as beautiful as described and it was apparent he was flourishing under the household's care.

Watson turned back to the kitchen to answer John's question of "Have you and Nick finished with your planning session?" While Druitt carried over the plates to the dining table on the opposite side of the kitchen James brought him up to speed on plans to build a large barn near the base of the mountain, roughly 250 feet from the cabin. Nick had discovered an interior access way into the mountain which would allow bringing in larger sized equipment and the barn would serve as a perfect cover to hide the entranceway when it was opened. John had been the one to suggest the barn with the thought in mind that Helen would love to have another horse and he had been right. Her lovely face had lit up like fireworks when the word "horse" was mentioned.

Later that evening Helen was kneeling down by the bath checking the temperature of the water. Satisfied, she twisted the knob to stop the flow of water and turned around to help her daughter into the tub. There was no one else around. "Amelia?" Helen called out as she stood and checked the half open linen closet for her missing child. Nothing. She then checked the four rooms nearby with zero results. Worried now, she quickly set out search the rooms in the other wing only to come to a halt at the staircase. James Watson was seated on the stairs leading to the upper loft area that Nick had converted into a cozy movie room with computer station on one side and a small bathroom on the other. The boy wasn't a computer guru the way Henry was, but Nick did share Henry's love of movies and television, particular science fiction.

"Missing something?" James asked with a smug tone. Turning her head in the direction he'd indicated she sighed as she caught sight of her naked child playing peek-a-boo with Puppy from opposite ends of the couch. "Patricia Amelia Druitt-Magnus, what do you think you're doing?"

"Playing with Puppy," the child answered back unabashedly.

Pointing back in the direction of the bathroom her mother commanded, "Bath time. Both of you! Now!" With her arms crossed like a stern sergeant she watched as the pair of escapees ran back toward the bathroom. One was giggling and the other squeaking as if he were giggling.

"You must have driven Gregory mad as a child," James teased, "if you were anything like that little one."

"I was a perfect angel," Helen replied and laughed, unable to keep a straight face. "Okay, I might have given him a moment of pause or two over the years."

"Or a thousand," James snickered back with affection in his eyes.

"I'd better catch up with them," she brusquely said, "otherwise Amelia will have the faucet back on and flood the place." Before going she placed a hand on his shoulder. "James, we need to have a serious discussion later. Alone. After I get the children into bed."

His face tightened. "Is this about John?" he asked with concern evident in his voice.

She shook her head. "No. It's about you." They stared at one another for a long minute.

"I'll meet you in the library at 10," he finally said. She nodded and took off after the children. Letting out harsh breath he collapsed back against the stairs and stared up at the ceiling. He'd been waiting for her to say something for a long time and now that the time was here he suddenly wished it wasn't. Whatever she was going to say he knew he was going to dislike it. Immensely.

A few hours later a figure was quietly walking down the hallway about to head to the kitchen when the raised voices caused it to pause. A loud crash pierced the silence and the figure rushed in the direction of the library. It halted just outside the closed door and noticed light seeping from underneath. Carefully the dark shadow tested the door knob, determined it wasn't locked, and, with breath held, eased the door open a crack.

"I will not do this!" James barked and waved his hands in the air in agitation. "You know what happened to John. How could you even suggest such a thing?"

"What happened to John had to do with his ability to teleport," Helen declared. "The only thing the blood transfusions did was to heal the deterioration of his brain and allow him to prolong his life."

"He became a stark raving maniac!" James roared. "How could you possibly think I would allow you to do that to me? With my advance intelligence I'd be ten times more deadly than John could ever dream to be. I could murder thousands!"

"Lower your voice, please," Helen exclaimed and sighed. "Look, James, I swear to you that the blood transfusions had nothing to do with John's madness. The only thing they will do to you is reverse the deterioration of your ailing body and allow you to live. That's all."

"How do you know they didn't cause his madness? When he became ill you gave him those transfusions using your own blood. Jack began his hunting trips shortly thereafter. Cause and effect."

"That's not what happened," Helen refuted with a shake of her head. "The cause of his madness was present before the transfusions. We just didn't know it. It was the reason for John's body starting to fail. The transfusions healed him… and unfortunately allowed the… cause… to rebound as well and grow stronger as John grew healthier."

Watson glared at her. "The mysterious cause. You still aren't going to tell me what this so called _cause_ is, are you?"

"When it's all over and you've escaped Bhalassam, yes, James, I will tell you the truth. The whole truth," she adamantly swore. "But until then you need to trust me. I would never suggest the transfusions if I thought for a second they would do to you what happened to John." There was a long drawn out moment of silence between them. "It's the only way, James," Helen softly said.

He swiped a hand over his face and tried to calm down his racing heart. "You're that certain about what happened with John?"

She took a step closer. "I saw the proof of what was involved with John's madness about a year after Bhalassam. As did the rest of my staff and Nikola. It wasn't the blood transfusions. It was… something far, far worse."

Gripping the back of one of the leather wing chairs with his hands, James dropped his head down and took several more breaths. "There has to be another way."

"I don't know any other way to prevent your death," she replied. "Without the transfusions you'll die at Bhalassam." Helen began to blink hard then as unexpected tears started to slip down her cheeks. "Please, James," she begged, "I don't know another way. I don't know what else to do."

Hearing the anguish in her voice he looked up and was shocked to find her crying. "I lost you once," she sniffled and reached out to cup his cheek with one hand. "I don't think I could bear to lose you again. I don't want you to die."

Closing his eyes, James leaned into her hand and gave a tired sigh. "I am a very old man. I have lived far longer than I should have naturally. Perhaps my death is for the best. Perhaps it was meant to be."

"The hell it is!" a voice yelled and threw open the door as the figure stormed into the room. The arguing couple jumped at the sound of the door slamming into the wall and turned to face the slim angry person facing them with hands on hips.

"Lucy!" James exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" She was supposed to have been in the city attending a wedding of a classmate.

"Never mind what I'm doing here, what are you doing here?" she shot back. "Going to just roll over and die like some hopeless idiot? What's wrong with you? I know you don't want to die."

Straightening, James gave his young charge a frown. "Lucy, this is a private conversation between myself and Helen. Whatever you've heard has nothing to do with you. Please excuse us."

Incensed, the redhead stamped her feet angrily and glared back. "It has everything to do with me. You are the closest thing I have ever had to a father. I was too young to remember my own biological one. You took me and Nick in and raised us as your own. And now you're just going to abandon us? I've been an orphan once… I don't want to do it again."

Watson gave a snort at her temper tantrum and his shoulders deflated as some of the tension escaped his body. "You're a bit old to be an orphan, darling. And everyone dies sooner or later. We're not immortal… no matter how much some of us might think we are." He shot a pointed look at Helen, who had stopped crying and was keeping quiet during the confrontation.

"Yes, we all die eventually but according to Helen," Lucy continued, "you don't have to die in two years time. You're just too chicken to do what's necessary to prevent it!"

"You're out of line, young lady," he reprimanded in the harshest tone he could muster. Lord, the child was stubborn and spoiled… and he was unfortunately part of the reason. "This isn't your decision. It's my life and my decision."

"How can you think of leaving me and Nick," she cried and started tearing up. "We have no family other than you. And if you're not around Nick's going to go overboard being overprotective again and try to lock me up in some tower somewhere. Then I'll die an old maid with no husband and children to care for me. How can you live with yourself knowing that I'll die alone and loveless?"

James gave an involuntary half snort half laugh. "Lying it on a bit thick, aren't you, Lucy? You know every well your brother adores you and will do whatever it takes to make you happy. And you'll hardly be alone. Helen and John will make sure you have their support."

"I don't want their support!" she cried and sniffled some more. "I want you." And with that declaration she launched herself into his arms and began crying for real.

"Bloody hell," James groaned and wrapped his arms around the sobbing redhead. Catching Helen's eye he frowned at her. "This is entirely your fault."

"I'm not the one making her cry," Helen retorted and bent down to start picking up the pieces of the lamp James had knocked over when he'd jumped out of his seat earlier in anger at her suggestion. "You're the guilty culprit."

"Promise me you'll take the infusions," Lucy pleaded between sobs.

"I'll make no such promise," he groused back.

She leaned back in his arms and grabbed a hold of his shirt to give him a defiant look. "Then I'm going to just stay here and sob in your arms until I make myself sick. And if that doesn't work then I'm just going to follow you around crying until it does. What do you think about that?"

"I think you're a spoiled brat who needs a good spanking, that's what I think," he answered with furrowed brows.

"I'm your spoiled brat," she reminded him and wrapped her arms around his neck tightly. "And I'm not letting go!" She purposely started weeping loudly again.

"Oh for God's sake," James muttered in defeat, "alright, alright, I'll do it! There, happy!" He knew her well enough to know she'd hound him until she got her way. The only other woman he'd ever meet so pigheaded was Helen.

Pulling back she sniffled, "You promise? Cross your heart and swear never to die?"

"Yes," he growled. "Just stop this infernal racket. I'm an old man. My heart can't take this kind of harassment."

Lucy hugged him to her tightly once more and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you," she murmured in relief.

Giving her a swat on the backside, he pulled away. "You are a royal pain in my backside."

"But you love me," she smiled.

He stared affectionately at the child he'd come to feel as his own. "Yes… I love you," he whispered.

The moment passed and Lucy shot Helen a little victorious smile. "Well, I'll be off then." She held up a little overnight bag. "The wedding went off without a hitch until best man got drunk at the reception and admitted he'd slept with his roommate's girlfriend. A brawl ensued, tables and chairs went flying everywhere, and I got the heck out of Dodge before the cops were called in. I think a long, hot shower and curling up in bed with a good book is required."

"You didn't catch the bouquet, did you?" James inquired, a little smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"No, you and Nick can breathe easy," Lucy said with a laugh and waved a goodbye as she exited the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

The two older adults silently watched her leave then stared at one another. "She's good," Helen praised as she dropped the porcelain pieces of the lamp into the trash bin. She still needed to vacuum any of the smaller shards up before Amelia or Puppy could step on them.

"You don't know the half of it," he groaned and dropped back into his abandoned chair. He expelled a loud breath and resignedly asked, "So when do we start?"

Helen gave him a big happy smile. "We already have. Your agreeing to the procedure was the biggest hurdled to the process."


	59. Magnus Family Reunion

Chapter 59: Magnus Family Reunion

With heavy heart the old man pushed onward, steadily hobbling away from the family he had so long ago abandoned. Not because he wanted to but it was the price he had to pay in order to hang on to the only other family he had. Torn between two daughters, one of whom he had raised openly as his own in the bustling city of London and the other to whom he presented himself as a family friend and had kept silent on her true parentage.

He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as he slowly climbed the rising sidewalk toward a rundown section of Old City that skirted the industrial area. The warehouses where the illegal abnormal fights were held were further into that area but he would avoid getting anywhere near those. The last thing he wanted was to come into contact with the Cabal again. It was irony at its best that the child he had abandoned for his work… well, she was hardly a child at the time. Helen was in her early 60s when she'd gotten word that he had disappeared during one of his foreign travels and was believed to be dead… would be the one that rescued him from his captors.

Helen, his beloved Helen. The child he had waited so long to have and believed for so long he might never be able to have. The day her mother had announced she was with child Gregory had felt a euphoria he had never felt before and had swept his beautiful wife off her feet literally to shower her with grateful and passionate kisses. His regret that he would be the last of his kind was not longer necessary. The old man sighed heavily again at the memory as he headed into a narrow alley behind an unremarkable row of businesses and restaurants. The mingled scents of burnt burgers and Mexican food hung in the air and turned his stomach a bit. The open trash receptacles added to the awful mix of scents.

Halfway down the alley Gregory froze suddenly as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Someone was following him, he was sure of it. Someone not sympathetic to his person. His cane held a sharp knife in its handle but without knowing who was following him and how many persons were involved he refrained from revealing his weapon. Instead, he picked up the pace towards the back room of the bookshop that was closed on this Sunday afternoon. He had been using the space as a temporary shelter while dodging the Cabal and had been fortunate not to have been caught there by his pursuers for the few important journals he had with him were stashed there. It was probably foolish of him to try to retrieve his belongings while the Cabal was out looking for him now but wanted his belongings back. He hadn't laid eyes on them in over three years. Feeling his pursuers getting closer, Gregory retrieved the spare key from behind a loose brick in the wall, pushed the key quickly into the lock and rushed inside. He huffed up the narrow flight of stairs and had just made it into the small kitchen when he heard footsteps in the lower level. Pulling the blade from his cane, the old man moved quickly beside the refrigerator whose angle would block his body from view from anyone entering the room. The space was tight and he had a hard time trying to slow down his racing heart and heavy breathing.

He jumped as a series of loud cries pierced the air followed by loud crash that sounded as if someone had fallen down the stairs. Somewhere among all that racket Gregory thought he'd heard a shot being fired as well. Stiffening as he heard soft footsteps headed his way, the doctor closed his eyes in brief prayer and tightened the grip on his knife. He had only just escaped being under the Cabal's power, it would be so unfair to be dragged back into his imprisonment so soon. Perhaps Helen had been right. Perhaps he should have remained at the Sanctuary under her team's protection.

He held his breath as the footsteps stopped outside the kitchen entrance. There was a long pause and then a deep voice broke the silence. A very familiar voice. "You can come out now, Gregory. I know you're in here."

In shock, the old man stood stock still. It couldn't be him. Dear Lord, he might be worse than the Cabal.

A deep sigh was heard, followed by, "I'm not here to hurt you, old man. In fact, the men that were are lying dead downstairs. I'm here merely to retrieve you per Helen's request."

Gregory's brows creased. He had left Helen not two hours ago. Why would she send the mad man after him despite her obvious reluctance to let him walk out the Sanctuary's hidden back exit.

The soft crunching sounds of large feet entering the room snapped him out of his thoughts. "The other Helen… not the young one you left behind in the Sanctuary." There was another pause. "You do have a nasty habit of leaving her behind, don't you, Gregory? Ever think about that?"

Eyes widening with awareness, the doctor swallowed hard and worked up the courage to finally step out from the protection of the fridge. Standing inside the kitchen and leaning lazily against the door's chipping frame was the large figure of Montague John Druitt. He looked very much like he had when Gregory had last seen him in that seaside cottage almost a century ago. This time he was dressed in denim jeans, a lighter, long sleeved denim shirt that was rolled up to the elbows, and on his feet were a pair of leather boots. "Nice outfit," Gregory said flatly. Of all the people to show up why did it have to be the big ox?

"Thanks," John answered with a smirk. "Helen picked it out." He looked blatantly at the knife in the old man's hand. "Planning to stab someone?" he asked in amusement.

"That depends," Gregory retorted with as much bravado as he could muster. "What do you want with me?"

"Me? Nothing," John snorted as he crossed his arms over his chest. "We both are well aware of the fact that there is no love lost between us. Helen, on the other hand, insists upon seeing you. She was worried the Cabal would try to come after you and she was right. I don't know how much time we have before the reinforcements arrive so we need to leave quickly. Whatever it is that you came here for retrieve it now." John had gone to great pains to stay out of sight of the men stalking Gregory and he had promised Helen he would return unseen with her father. The last thing they needed was for the Cabal to realize there was a second version of Druitt running around.

At Gregory's "What makes you think I've come to retrieve anything," John gave him a raised eyebrow and smug look. "Tick tock, old man," John retorted with a wave of his hand. "You have two minutes to grab whatever you want before we leave."

Gregory stared hard at the man who at one time would have been his son-in-law before he went insane and exhaled a deep breath as his racing heart began to slow down. He didn't for one second trust Druitt but the clearness of the bigger man's eyes led the doctor to believe that the man was sane for the moment. And what alternative did he have? Druitt could easily overpower him if he wanted. Even if he could defeat the big ox he certainly couldn't take on the several Cabal agents that were most likely on their way. Sliding his knife back into his cane, Gregory turned around and headed into the small pantry where he pried free a loose board in the wall. Inside the small space was two of his leather worn journals. Perhaps inside these were the details he could not recall thanks to the damage from the Cabal's machinations. There was also a thin, dark folio inside which was his most prized possession – a picture of his beloved late wife and their six year old daughter. Hearing Druitt's impatient shuffle outside, Gregory tucked the photo in his inside coat pocket and reemerged from the pantry with journals in hand.

"I'm ready," he grimly informed the other man and drew himself stiffly to full height in anticipation of Druitt's unwanted touch. John reached for him right as there was a squeaking noise from below of a door being opened. The two briefly glanced back at the kitchen door. "Time to go," John said softly and laid his large palm on the other's shoulder.

In a swirl of red they reappeared in a comfortable living room of what appeared to be a large cabin. Releasing his hold on Gregory, John stepped away and said, "Helen, we're here."

"Father," an excited Helen greeted as she stepped out of the hallway to the kitchen and rushed to hug her father. She was casually dressed in a summer dress and sandals and her braided reddish-brown hair hung down over her left shoulder.

Gregory accepted his daughter's tight hug with a genuine smile plastered across his face. It had only been a few hours since he'd left her but he'd already come to miss her. Leaning back from her embrace the doctor took in her healthy appearance and the happy twinkle in her eyes. "You look wonderful, my dear," he said and brushed her right cheek softly with his hand. "How long has it been since we last met?"

"You remember," she replied with relief. "I was worried that memory was one of those destroyed by the Cabal."

"I remember," her father assured her and glanced around. "I thought we'd be in Avalon though. Where are we?"

"Nearby," she answered. "It was a nice day so we thought we'd enjoy the sunshine."

"This is a nice place you have here…" he started to compliment her but trailed off as a figure suddenly appeared by the left side of the couch that faced him. The longer he stared at the little person the sharper the similarities became. It was as if he were staring at Helen as a young child. The porcelain skin with rosy cheeks, the blonde hair with little waves of curls that hung from two ribboned ponytails, and the eyes as blue… no wait, the eyes were more gray than blue. The child had her father's eyes, not her mother's.

Noticing her father's mouth drop open, Helen moved closer to her child as she prepared to tell her father he had another grandchild. Her daughter beat her to it. Tilting her little head to one side, Amelia asked, "Are you my grandfather?"

Glancing from the girl to her mother and back to the child, Gregory hoarsely declared, "I believe I am. And your name, my little one?"

"My name is Patricia Amelia Druitt-Magnus," the four year old proudly informed him as she continued to stare at him curiously. "You're old," she said in that innocent way children would declare rude observations without meaning to be rude.

"Amelia," her mother reprimanded with a frown. "It's not nice to tell someone they look old."

"Oh," the child said with a crinkle of her little nose. She wrapped her arms around the arm of the leather couch and looked from her mother to her grandfather uncertain what to do next.

Gregory looked at his daughter in confusion as well. "I thought the reason you wanted Avalon was for Ashley."

"It was… partly," Helen admitted. "I might have also been a wee bit pregnant at the time I put in the request for you to secure the ancient city for us."

"A wee bit pregnant?" the old man chuckled and for the first time since he'd arrived felt at ease. "That was exactly what your mother told me she the night she informed me you were on the way." Father and daughter smiled at one another affectionately until a movement by the child caught Gregory's attention. A furry head peaked around the child to stare at the visitor with its ice blue eyes. "What have we here?" an amazed Gregory asked as he leaned forward and placed his palms on his knees. "If that's what I think it is it's been a long time since I've laid eyes on a member of that species." The creature ducked out of sight behind the child, though its tail was still visible.

"Gregory, might I introduce you to Puppy?" John interjected as he moved closer to his family. "Not that I'm surprised that the abnormal is the thing you find most interested in this room." He gave the old man a fake smile and received glares from both Helen and Gregory.

The otter peaked around the child again. "It's alright," Helen murmured as encouragement to the skittish animal. "He's family." Sensing the newcomer wasn't a threat the furry creature moved before the child and rose up to sit on its haunches to peer quizzically at the older man.

Gregory gave a wide smile as he noticed that Puppy was wearing a toddler's shirt with "I get my good looks from my mommy" written on it. "Interesting," he murmured with a chuckle.

"Children," John said, "Your mother and grandfather have a lot to talk about. How about we go head out to the garden and gather some food for dinner?"

"Okay," Amelia grinned, causing her pair of dimples to appear much to her grandfather's delight for his late wife had been blessed with exactly the same charming feature. "I want to ride in the wheelbarrow!" Her companion gave a meeping sound of agreement and wagged his tail.

"The wheelbarrow is not a ride," John argued as he led them to the door. "It's to haul heavy items around in the garden."

"We're heavy items," his young daughter argued back as she went through the door her father held open. "You say that Puppy and I are heavy all the time. And we want to ride in the wheelbarrow." John exchanged amused looks with Helen before closing the door behind him.

Alone with her father for the first time in years, Helen gave him a small self-conscious smile and suggested they have tea on the patio outside. "The weather is perfect and the honeysuckle is in bloom around the cabin." She led him to the same door the others had gone through onto a covered patio on the backside of the cabin. The components of a high English tea were set out on the table and Helen busied herself with fixing her father and herself a cup of hearty black tea.

Helen sat down next to her father and rested back in her chair with the comforting knowledge that her entire family was safe for the time being. A minute later John rounded the side of the house pushing a large green wheelbarrow inside which his triumphant daughter and hairy "son" were seated with some wicker baskets and nippers tucked between them. "Faster, daddy!" the child demanded as they moved toward the large garden enclosed by a picket fence that was located about twenty-five feet from the patio. John obliged by striding faster and was rewarded with giggles from Amelia and the excited huffs of "heee" that the humans had come to know as Puppy's version of laughter.

"Helen," Gregory asked with narrowed eyes as he moved to pick up his cup of tea, "care to explain to your father how it is that you could allow that monster near your child, let alone procreate with him again?"

Ducking her head down as she nervously tucked a curl behind her ear she replied, "It's not what you think, father."

"I think that you've lost your head and forgotten what that man did to you. What he did to others." He leaned forward in his chair to place a hand on hers. "It does not do, child, to cling to a love so torrid and unhealthy. Think of your daughter… of her safety."

Giving an involuntary laugh, she patting his hand in turn and said, "I am thinking of my child. She's safe because she is with her father." She held up her hand to stop his protest when he pulled away from her to rest back against his chair. "The condition which plagued John in the past is no longer an issue. He is in control once again."

He snorted. "I did not know insanity was a condition so easily cured. And how, pray tell, did he become cured of this violent nature?"

"I didn't say he wasn't capable of violence," she replied and received a dark look from her father. "John is a dangerous force to be reckoned with if he feels himself or his family is in harm's way. However," she quickly added, "he is in control of his actions and quite sane now."

"He told you that did he?" Gregory flatly sniped. "What, did he just wake up one day cured and suddenly in the mood for the family he abandoned?"

"No," Helen snipped back then bit her bottom lip in regret. More softly, she answered, "He was freed from the energy elemental that long possessed him when he absorbed the power overload which allowed me to follow a dangerous opponent back in time to old England. The elemental was forced from his body and he pitched forward just in time to follow after me before the time portal closed."

Gregory's eyes widened in surprise. "Energy elemental? That's a bit farfetched, my dear."

She smiled. "I know. I wouldn't have believed it myself except that on another occasion I separated the elemental from John's dying body by accident and it tried to overtake the Sanctuary's systems and kill us all. John included. The only way to stop it was for John to accept it back into his body and teleport away."

There was a long silence as the stunned doctor tried to come to grips with her explanation. "It was heartbreaking to learn, after all those many years, that John's declarations of not being in control and hearing another voice in his head were in fact truth. "Jack" jumped into him during one of his early days of teleporting and possessed him with its bloodthirsty urges. And to know that I couldn't do anything to help him also weighed heavy on me." She looked off in the distance, toward her family, and said, "The younger version of me has yet to discover the truth. It will be at least a year before that happens." She looked back her father and gave him a sad smile. "It was purely by accident that he was freed from his prison. He grabbed those electrical wires believing he was going to die. And he almost did."

The old man blinked several times and scratched his beard with his left hand. He had expected her to declare her undying love for the idiot and even become weepy as she gave excuse after excuse for accepting him back. "He didn't do those things willingly?" he softly asked with furrowed brows.

She shook her head and looked back towards the garden as raised voices carried their way. "Daddy, Puppy's eating the strawberries again," Amelia tattled to her father. She was carrying her little basket which was filled with two dozen strawberries and some of the small carrots she was helping her father pull out of the ground.

"Puppy," John reprimanded in his deep voice as he continued to pull up a few more carrots, "stop eating the berries. You know you're allergic and I'm not scratching you for relief."

The otter made a loud gacking noise and threw up some berries near Amelia foot. "Eww!" the child cried and pointed a carrot at him in reproach. "You're gross!"

Puppy made a few squeaks of denial and scratched at his ear. Berries always caused him to itch but he rather liked their taste. He gave a louder squeal at being left behind as father and daughter moved on to the bell peppers and picked up his little basket in his teeth to race after them. A small trail of strawberries lay in his wake as they fell from his basket.

"I want to pick some tomatoes," Amelia declared in her little sing-song-y English accent. "I like tomatoes with my eggs."

"Only if you pick ripe ones," her father ordered. "The last batch was green and bitter. We're not going to have any good tomatoes to eat if you two keep picking them when they're green."

Helen gave a little laugh at her family's antics. Catching her father's eye she gave him a warm smile. "I know you're being presented with a lot but I hope you'll stay and get a chance to know my family. To know your grandchildren."

"What about Ashley?" he asked with a shake of his head in an attempt to clear his confused mind.

"We'll be collecting her in less than eight weeks time," she confessed. "The Cabal will openly declare war on the Sanctuary Network when they go after her. We have a plan to save her and James but it will be a bit tricky to pull off. Timing will be everything." She took a deep breath and pressed on. "I'm hoping that you'll stay with us for a while, until things settle down. And if, by some unfortunate twist of fate, we're unable to get to them first we might require your assistance."

Gregory took a large swallow of the last of his tea and stared into his daughter's hopeful eyes. She had her mother's eyes. He'd been gone from Praxis for over three years and was worried about his younger daughter's fate there. Her marriage was not a happy one and he wanted to be there for her regardless of the fact that Rana had no clue of his true identity. On the other hand, Helen was his first born and he'd been away from her far too long. The safety of her family was in question and he was still concerned by Druitt's violent streak despite Helen's claim he was in control. Off in the garden he heard his granddaughter's laughter and turned to see her and the otter running down one of the long garden rows. "I'm gonna get you," she cried as she chased her playmate. Smiling, he turned back to her mother and announced his intention to stay for a while.

"Wonderful!" Helen said in delight and reached over to take his hand. "I think you'll find Amelia to be quite a joyful handful."

"If she's anything like her mother I have no doubt of it," he replied and squeezed her hand affectionately.

She looked at the stack of three leather worn journals. "You might enjoy the library in Avalon. It's been cleaned up and perhaps you can continue your research there." That seemed to perk Gregory up and a large smile graced his time worn face. "It's been a good while since I've been able to write. I should enjoy that very much," he admitted.

Six weeks later Gregory found himself in the family's Avalon kitchen making himself a large cup of tea. It was around nine in the evening and he was feeling quite pleased with himself. For the past numerous weeks he'd worked on his journals and explored the offerings of the library and Avalon itself. His mind buzzed with the new information and he'd lost track of time and his concern with returning to Praxis. He had his own townhouse of sorts above the library and the freedom to do as he pleased. Helen had made sure his quarters were comfortably situated and his closet full of clothing his size, which was good considering he had arrived with only the clothes on his back.

Placing his teacup and saucer onto a small tray, Gregory reached for a small tin of biscuits when he felt eyes upon his person. Pausing, he looked down to find two little ones by his side. "Received your baths, I see," he amiably greeted his grandchildren. Technically the hairy one wasn't his grandchild but as it was under the firm impression that it was the baby of the family he accepted it as such. As apparently did everyone else, though Druitt did at times half-heartedly argue with the otter over that fact.

"Uh huh," Amelia answered and, with her hands behind her back as she swayed slightly, gave her grandfather a dimpled smile. "Are you having tea?"

"I am," the old doctor confirmed as he placed the biscuit tin on his tray.

"Do you have cookies?" the child slyly asked. An excited meep from the otter echoed her question. He was very acquainted with the word "cookie" given his sweet tooth.

"I do," an amused Gregory answered. Amelia's noticeable resemblance to her mother at that age continued to disarm him and amaze him at the same time. She was quite a handful like her mother had been though her personality was a tad bit sweeter than her mother's. She was also a very affectionate and happy child. Gregory reflected that perhaps Helen might have been this way had her mother lived longer.

"I like cookies," Amelia shared conspiratorially and batted her big, beautiful grey-blue eyes at him. "So does Puppy." The otter gave a double meep meep and sat up on its haunches to paw the air with its small hands, which was his way of begging.

"You don't say," her grandfather replied and bent at the waist to look at them. "I don't suppose..," he paused for affect, "…you and Puppy would like a cookie?"

"Yes, I would!" Amelia clapped her hands happily and bounced up and down on her slippered feet. Puppy wiggled his backside and squeaked excitedly as well.

Standing back upright, Gregory gave the adorable pair an appraising look. "It's your bedtime soon, isn't it? Would your mother approve of me giving you both cookies so late?"

"Oh, mummy won't mind," the child smoothly declared. "As long as we have milk too it's okay."

"I see," the old man nodded, knowing full well that Helen had probably already brushed their teeth and would soon be putting them to bed and therefore not appreciate him giving them a bedtime snack. Still, he couldn't resist spoiling his grandchildren. After lifting each one onto a bar stool he placed two cookies on two small plates and poured two small glasses of milk. He placed them before the children and seated himself onto the third stool on the corner of the island to chat with them. He had planned to have his tea alone in the library but this would be far more entertaining.

The otter eagerly grabbed one of his cookies to shove into his mouth. He paused eating as he observed Amelia dipping hers into her milk to soften the sweet vanilla cookie before taking a bite. Puppy immediately copied her by dipping the remainder of his treat into his smaller cup of milk. Gregory couldn't help but smile at the creature's night shirt which declared "Off to dreamland" with a picture of Christopher Robin hugging Pooh bear. He learned soon after coming here that Puppy had a large scar across his chest from a hunter's trap and was embarrassed by it. Whenever anyone would stare at it the creature would drop its head and hunch over in an attempt to hide his old wound. The little shirts he wore, many of which had been Amelia's, covered the wound and Puppy took delight in wearing them. In fact, little shirts were the gift of choice for the otter and he had his own drawer full of them.

Amelia crinkled up her little pert nose seeing the look on her grandfather's face as he stared at them. "What?" she asked with a line of milk ringed around her upper lip like a moustache. "What's so funny?"

"You," he said with a little laugh as he dipped his biscuit into his tea, "remind me so much of your mother as a young girl."

"I do?" she asked in surprise.

"Very much," he nodded. "Your mother had a little partner in crime when she was a girl too. If she wasn't sneaking him treats on the sly he was helping himself to them down the corner. That's of course after she snuck him into the house without telling anyone and hid him in her room. The pair was often in trouble over one thing or another."

"Mummy was naughty when she was little?" the child asked in a shocked tone which caused Gregory to laugh aloud.

"Very naughty at times," her grandfather shared and took a long sip of his tea. "She and her pet Pumpkin cause quite a lot of trouble in the household. That little kitten grew up to be a huge orange tom cat who liked to chew on your grandmother's slippers, he would leave hair all over my coats after napping on them, and he was a terrible beggar in the kitchen. And worse, he was a frequent thief at the fishmonger's around the corner block."

"Wow," Amelia said with big eyes shining. "He was really naughty, wasn't he?"

Gregory snorted a laugh as he dipped his second cookie into his tea. "Yes, he was. The fishmongers referred to him as the Orange Terror and I spent quite a penny paying off his debts. But your mother adored him and would defend him no matter what. Your grandmother was beside herself after discovering a half eaten fish head inside one of her undergarments one evening and announced her intention to give him away immediately."

"What happened?" his enthralled granddaughter inquired. Puppy echoed her question with a meep. The otter's intelligence was another thing that amazed Gregory, who had lived a long time and had run into few animals with the awareness this one displayed.

"I packed a bag, along with Pumpkin's toy mouse and some food lifted from the kitchen, and we ran away," a female voice said behind them. Amelia looked up as her mother strolled into the room, looked down at the remains of their unauthorized snack, and shook her head lightly. "We made it two blocks before I got tired. Nanny found us sitting on the steps of a townhouse half an hour later and brought us home. I got grounded but Pumpkin got to stay."

"You were naughty," Amelia giggled as she pointed her remaining cookie at her mother. She gave an indignant squeak as her mother leaned down and quickly took a bit out of her treat. "Mummy! That's my cookie!"

Wiping away the crumbs from her mouth, Helen chuckled as she observed Puppy cramming the little bit of cookie he had left into his mouth before she could take a bit out of it. The otter did love his sweets. "I wasn't naughty as a little girl," she denied and laughed as her father raised an eyebrow at her blatant lie. "I was curious and precocious."

That got Gregory laughing. "Oh, was that what you were?" He laughed harder as his granddaughter scrunched up her lovely face and said, "So I'm curious and precocious when you say I'm being naughty?"

"No," her mother laughed and gave the child a kiss on her golden head. "You're just naughty!"

"Just like your mother," Gregory declared with a wink at his granddaughter. "Yes, you too," he said at Puppy's series of squeaks. "You're both naughty like your mother."

"I come by it naturally," Helen said with a poignant look at her father.

"Maybe," the old man agreed with a matching grin. It was inevitable that his offspring were a bit of a handful but he wouldn't have it any other way. The Magnus family was nothing if not interesting and curious.


	60. So It Begins

Chapter 60: So It Begins

Barry was not having a good day. The entire facility was on alert and the muckety mucks were due within the half hour. The head scientist, a pompous old man who enjoyed bossing the underlings around, was flittering about in the labs eagerly awaiting his soon to be arriving victims. As one of the newer and lower ranked systems technicians, Barry wasn't clued in on what was about to transpire other than to have been told the facility was on high alert and that he and his IT colleagues were to stay out of the way. Three minutes ago his supervisor ordered him to go to the west wing to check on an external server that suddenly went non-responsive which set Barry grumbling all the way to the server room. A heavy set man, Barry preferred sitting in his comfortable chair, stuffing his face with junk food and playing video games on his tablet while keeping an eye on the facility's complicated computer systems.

He jumped as his boss's voice squawked over the pager attached to his hip. "Barry, what's going on down there? The damn EM shield just went down too." Barry rolled his eyes and pressed the button to respond. "I'm almost there. The elevator took forever to arrive and…"

"I don't care about your excuses!" his boss barked. "Find out what's going on with the west wing and bring it back online NOW! The boss lady will have a fit if the facility is not in full operation and she'll be here in about thirty minutes."

Reaching the door, Barry pulled his security card out from his shirt pocket, swiped it through the card reader and punched in his pass code as he said, "I wonder if one of those science geniuses upstairs somehow overloaded the server. Whatever they've been testing up there is using up a lot of power…" His supervisor cut him off again. "What's going down doesn't concern the likes of you. Just do as you're told and get the systems back online. ASAP!" Barry's large jowls clenched as he entered the west wing server bay. He had a degree from MIT and here he was being ordered around by a bunch of zealots who treated him as if he hadn't graduated top of his class. He was of half a mind to write a virus code and set it loose in his jerk of a boss's computer. That'd fix his inflated ego Barry smugly thought.

So engrossed was he in his thoughts of revenge that it wasn't until he had rounded the tall racks of equipment and faced the server itself that he realized he wasn't alone. A figure wearing a long white lab coat was bent over a small keyboard quickly typing away. Access to the server was available only via small external keyboards that were assigned to key members of the IT and security teams. "Hey, what are you doing?" Barry asked with a frown as he took a step toward the figure and skidded to a wobbly stop when he noticed that a hand lie in his path. Startled, he looked to his left and became bug eyed at the sight of a body lying flat on the ground. "What the…" the large man cried and looked back at the person before him. The figure turned slightly to look at him over its shoulder and Barry gave a loud squeak of alarm. The figure's expressionless face was unfamiliar to him and he knew all the IT and security staff by sight. The brown eyed younger woman made a slight nod in his direction and turned back to her work. "Hey! I'm talking to you!" Barry yelled at the back of her head, which had a tight bun of dark red hair fasted at the base of the neck. Too late he heard the sound of someone behind him and before he could turn his head all the way he felt large hands grip his neck and quickly turn hard to sever his spinal cord. Barry dropped to the ground before another word could be uttered.

The woman straightened and solemnly declared "Done" as she efficiently disconnected the keyboard and tucked it into her lab pocket. She walked toward her partner and together they stared down at the bodies. "We have 15 minutes to complete the mission. What do we do with these two?"

Her partner reached down and grabbed both men by their collars. He disappeared in a flash of red and reappeared a minute later sans bodies. "Done," he repeated and held up Barry's security card. "Let's move."

The pair exited the room and, with heads held high and footsteps firm on the hard cement floor, walked in the opposite direction from which their latest victim had arrived. Their soldier-like paces were timed to the second to coincide with the virus she had uploaded into the system. Care was taken to not jostle unnecessarily the delicate items tucked into tight slots within the pack the man wore over his left shoulder. Every few doors the pair would stop briefly for the woman to look down into her palm pilot while the man would disappear into a nearby room only to reappear back by her side seconds later. The basement level of the facility was u-shaped and they had begun from the mid-point of the west wing and were working their way towards the northwest wing.

They were three-fourths of the way to completing their semi-circle when they approached a security check point that would require them going through full body scans. "Step through, hands flat and out from your side," one of the two guards instructed to the tall man as he squinted at the badge that was pinned on his lab coat pocket. The big man took one step forward but stopped as the woman grabbed his elbow. "One moment," she said in a smooth French accent as she glanced back down at her device. Satisfied, she looked back up and nodded. Pushing her black rimmed glassed back up onto the bridge of her nose, she lined up behind the man and both moved forward. She didn't so much as blink as her partner disappeared in front of her only to reappear on the other side of the scanning machine. His large hands expertly snapped the first officer's neck from behind before the man knew what was happening. Her gloved hand was already raised to precisely lodge a bullet from her small but deadly weapon into the center of the other guard's forehead before he could fully react. Her partner caught the body before it hit the ground and in a flash of red he left with both bodies. She tapped her feet four times and gave a half smile as he returned to the spot he'd just vacated. "The well is getting full," he commented nonchalantly in French as he took his place to the left of her. She shrugged. They'd kill every worthless person in the facility if they had the time but that wasn't why they were here. Her heart rate was picking up as she peered down at her palm pilot. They were almost there. A few more minutes and the years of planning would bring to fruition her heart's desire. "Courage, my love," came the faint murmur near her ear. "We're almost there." She glanced up at him as he touched her shoulder and their eyes locked as they teleported away in a haze of red.

Three minutes later Barry's infuriated supervisor, Ted, appeared in the server room along with four members of the security team prepared to ream out his lazy employee. The idiot wasn't responding to his calls and now he had the head of the security breathing fire down his throat. The surveillance cameras went down around the west and northwest wings of the facility right as the two expected intruders had entered the facility. "Barry! Where are you, you worthless lump!" his boss roared in the empty space. One of the guards who walked up to the server asked in alarm, "What's with the strange characters flashing on the server monitor? Is that normal?" Ted rushed to the monitor for a look. "No, it's not. I don't recognize these symbols. I think we've been hacked."

"Override it!" another guard ordered and whipped out his phone to sound the alert. All he got was silence. "I'm getting no signal."

"Me either," another cried and all four turned toward the server which was now emitting an irritating beeping sound. "Fix it!" the head guard demanded.

"I'm trying!" Ted argued. "It's not recognizing my keyboard or any of my commands."

"I'm going for backup," the shorter of the guards huffed and went to exit the west server bay. Several swipes of his security card failed to open the door. Concerned, his cohorts each tried their cards which also failed to respond. The beeping in the room got louder. "That sounds like a bomb," one skittish man commented nervously.

"That's because it is a bomb," Ted cried as he peered beneath the underside of the server. "I think it's the reason the server's gone haywire!" The others rushed over to all stare at the red digital clock which was counting down from one minute. "Holy smoke!" one cried and raced back to the door where he began banging on it. Never mind that the thick steel door was installed to withstand any attempts of break ins let alone break outs.

At the same time, in the center of the northwest wing, the two expected intruders were surrounded by the Cabal's triumphant primary security team. "Crap!" Ashley muttered under her breath as she and Henry looked around to find themselves encircled by armed enemy forces. Glancing at Henry she saw that he looked like he was going to pass out from fear.

"Drop your weapons!" one guard ordered. Reluctantly, Ashley pulled her finger off the trigger of her gun and tilted her weapon upward in a sign of surrender. She had no idea how she and Henry were going to take down this many armed guards without getting killed. Five of the guards who had moved toward them to take their weapons were within three feet when the whole area shook in a violent series of explosions. Screams pierced the air as people began to plunge through the floor. Ashley was knocked back onto the floor, landing hard onto the backpack over her left shoulder. Her loud grunt of pain was drowned out by another close by series of explosions and more howls of fear as additional sections of the ground gave away.

Nearby, her lanky partner lie face down groaning in pain. He'd not had time to steady himself as the first of the explosions occurred and thus he had pitched forward to hit the ground knees first. Blaring alarms rang out and the ensuing hazy smoke caused the overhead sprinkler systems to turn on. The disoriented, banged up werewolf had only started to push upright on his hands when he felt himself being pulled backward into a solid form and barely had time to register the stinging needle prick in his neck before he felt himself fall into a deep, dark hole. He slumped against his attacker's body and was caught tight in their grip.

"Henry!" a soaked Ashley cried and tried to reach for him with one hand while raising her gun with another. She squeaked loudly as an arm wrapped around her neck in a choke hold and she received the same needle treatment to the side of the neck. Her attempt to buck off her attacker failed and the room began to swim. Ashley's beloved gun slipped from her limp hand and was taken before it reached the ground. A barely visible haze of red flared briefly in the raining chaos of the facility and the few desperate shots aimed in their direction came too late. The area rocked again as a fainter third round of explosions ripped through the facility.

Far off at a safe distance, an anxious pair of green eyes watched through long range binoculars as the Cabal facility's plunge into smoke, fire and decay. There was nothing he could do but hope that the mission went off as planned as he waited to be picked up.


	61. Down the Rabbit Hole

Chapter 61: Down the Rabbit Hole

Seated on old stool with surprisingly strong legs given its delicately thin design, she kept her face tilted upward with a heated hand cloth pressed to her raw face. On the vanity table before her was a silver bowl with almost cooled water, a round canister of cold cream and an expensive blue bottle containing a rich, thick lotion to help soothe her reddened countenance. She was using the heat from the frequent treatments of the hot wash cloth to her face to seal in the lotion and thus reduce the damage to her face. A very old face that still retained its youthful appearance by means that were partly botanical but mostly unnatural. She sniffled underneath the blue cloth as her nostrils were beginning to rebel against the moisture. She'd been doing this for the last fifteen minutes and her face was almost back to its soft, smooth porcelain appearance. She was about to remove the cloth when the clicking sound of someone pulling the hammer of a gun back to arm it caused her to freeze. The sound was right behind her head.

"Who are you? And where the hell am I?" a strained female voice demanded.

Smiling at the familiar voice, Helen slowly lowered her face and reached to remove the cloth only to hear the young woman shift her stance and warn her not to make any sudden movements. It made Helen's smile widen. Oh how she missed that sweet voice. "Where you are is safe," she answered as she pulled the towel off and dropped it on the table. "Who I am is someone who loves you very much," she finished in a choked voice as she stared at their reflection in the oval mirror before her.

Surprised, the blonde, willowy girl faltered in her defensive stance and lowered her gun. "Mom?"

"Hello, baby," the older woman greeted and stood up to face her offspring.

"Baby?" a light headed Ashley repeated. "You haven't called me that in quite a while. And why is your hair red?" Her head was still throbbing and frankly her legs weren't all that steady either. She felt like an elephant had been using her head for a trampoline and she narrowed one brilliant blue eye to focus on her slightly fuzzy mother's face.

"It's okay, darling," Helen soothed and moved toward her. "Your head will clear up soon." She cupped her precious daughter's cheek with her right hand and gave her a watery smile.

"Mom, what's going on?" Ashley mumbled into her mother's shoulder when Helen unexpectedly pulled her into a tight embrace and began crying. Her mother was acting strange and in the back of Ashley's mind there was the nagging thought that she was forgetting something very important.

"I've missed you so much," Helen sobbed into her oldest child's hair and hugged her tighter. They'd done it. The impossible. They'd rescued their lost child.

"Mom…" Ashley gasped, "can't breathe…"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Helen apologized and leaned back to stare at her beautiful child. A moment later she crushed her daughter to her again and began crying again.

"Mom?!" the girl croaked in her mother's tight embrace.

"You'll have to forgive your mother," a deep male voice explained from behind them. "She's been waiting for this moment for a very long time.

Prying herself free, Ashley turned to find her father standing inside the doorway. His face looked tired and his eyes were watery yet he wore a soft smile as he stared at her. "Hello, Ashley," he greeted with a gentle bow of his head.

"Whoa," Ashley replied with a little laugh. "So that's what you look like with hair."

He moved closer and his smile widened. "It's not so bad, is it?"

"No," she agreed. "I like the salt and pepper look on you." She reached out and before he knew what was happening she had yanked hard on his beard, causing him to yelp in pain and jerk back.

"Was that really necessary?" he grumbled as he rubbed at his right cheek.

Ashley's mouth was agape as she stared at the few hairs in her hand. "You're beard is real," she whispered loudly. "How is it real? You were bald and clean shaven when I left you both at the Sanctuary earlier." She whirled around and pointed her gun at her mother. "And your hair was black. Why is it red now?"

Touching her long hair, which was swept over one shoulder, her mother mused, "I've become rather fond of this shade of red," and sighed. "I do miss being a brunette though but that will have to wait a while longer."

Ashley moved away from her parents to return to the vanity her mother had been sitting at when she surprised her. She jerked back at the sight of what appeared to be the remains of a latex face lying in a tin wastebasket beside the vanity. Had she dug deeper into the trash she would have found a pair of brown contacts as well. Whirling around, Ashley pointed the gun in the direction of her parents. "Okay, who the hell are you?" she repeated with a growl. "Or should I say what are you?"

John chuckled in amusement. "Distrustful and prone to using force. Makes a father proud."

"This isn't funny!" Ashley barked and focused her gun on him. "I want to know what's going on NOW! If I don't get any answers I'm going to shoot someone."

"I'll leave you to deal with this, shall I? Disciplining the children is your area," John told his mate and turned to leave.

"Hey, I didn't say you could leave!" his daughter called out and he heard her pull back the trigger of the gun. She ignored her mother's frown and reprimand of "Ashley!"

"Now, now, it's not nice to shoot your father in the back," John chastised over his shoulder as he continued to exit. "Be a good girl and put the gun down."

"Bite me!" Ashley retorted and became even more annoyed when he threw back his head and laughed before closing the door behind him. She turned her glare and gun onto her mother.

"Darling, calm down. Everything's okay," Helen calmly said and motioned to the loveseat in the sitting area of the bedroom. "Let's just sit down and talk about this."

"First off, I'm not your darling," Ashley smarted back and trained her gun on the older woman's head. "And you're not my mom. My mom has dark hair and she's currently off traipsing around in the wilderness somewhere with Will, my godfather, and my psycho dad whose bald head is shiny like a cue ball."

It was Helen's turn to chuckle. "That is true. I am off having an adventure in Bhalassam with my merry little crew… though it was hardly a merry little trip. Quite the opposite really." Ignoring the gun, she moved to sit down on the loveseat and leaned forward to pour herself a cup of tea.

"So you admit you're an imposter," the girl triumphantly snapped. "Who are you then? And why am I here?" She shook her head to indicate she didn't want any tea but the woman poured her a cup anyway.

"I am Helen Magnus," her mother declared and pinned her with a confident look. "And you are my daughter." She paused and took a sip, peering at her child over the rim of her cup as she drank. Ashley was behaving more or less how she expected and Helen knew the day was going to be a long one.

"Uh uh," Ashley disagreed and waved her gun around in agitation as she spoke. "You said my mom is off at Bhalassam. So you can't be her. Who are you?"

Helen bit her bottom lip. This was like a bad round of who's on first. "I am Helen Magnus, your mother. I am, however, an older version of your mother."

Ashley snorted. "My mother's pretty old. Ancient to be exact. To be older than her you'd have to be a mummy."

Leaning back against the faded plum velour of the old loveseat, the doctor raised an eyebrow at her mouthy child. "Don't be cheeky. I'm not that old… yet. And you might as well put down that gun and have a seat. We have a long discussion in front of us."

Crossing her arms in rebellion, the girl retorted, "And why would I want to put down my gun? For all I know you could be a crazed killer."

"Well, for one thing, it's useless since I've removed all the bullets," Helen shared sweetly and picked up her cup for another sip. All the stress from the rescue attempt earlier had really dehydrated her and the soothing peppermint tea was doing a great job of reviving her. And she needed to stay on her toes to keep up with her energetic children. At Ashley's squawk of alarm following the discovery that her gun indeed had no bullets, the older woman added, "As I said, we have a lot to discuss and time is of the essence. Henry will need to be returned shortly."

At the mention of his name Ashley's eyes widen. That was what was nagging at the back of her fuzzy mind. "What have you done with Henry! Where is he?" she demanded with a stomp of her foot.

"He's fine. He's asleep in another room," her mother insisted and patted the seat next to her. "Sit," she ordered.

"And if I don't?" the girl scowled and re-crossed her arms defiantly.

"You can stand if you like," her mother caved with an elegant shrug of her shoulders. "But given the complicated story I'm about to lay on you sitting would be recommended."

Wearily the girl sat down in the lone chair opposite of her. "And what kind of story are you going to weave? Hopefully not a fairytale resplendent with a princess on a white horse in need of rescue by some muscled idiot."

"No, you always preferred the story of the princess and the pea as a child," Helen smiled briefly at the look of surprise on Ashley's face but then grew serious. "But the story I want to tell you is about a pair of parents so desperate to save their child that they went to unimaginable extremes. The story begins almost ten years ago… on this very day."

Two hours had almost passed by the time John returned. As he stepped up to the doorframe he noted the dead silence on the other side. That wasn't a good sign. His normally iron clad stomach churned nervously, and he had to take a deep breath to work up his courage to enter the room. Stiffening his spine, he reached for the door knob and carefully opened the door. It occurred to him that Ashley, not believing Helen's story, might have overpowered her mother and was lying in wait for him on the other side. The corner of his mouth turned up briefly at the thought that Ashley would need more than a bullet less gun and her hand-to-hand combat skills to hang onto him. Teleporting did have its advantages over the other gifts of The Five.

Helen looked up at him as he entered the room. Her face was tear-stained and she was seated on the low, wooden coffee table and clutching at their daughter's hand. A shell shocked Ashley was curled up in the wing chair with a pillow crushed protectively to her stomach.

"I hate to interrupt," John hesitantly asserted, "but the time's almost up."

"Time for what?" Ashley asked, looking up at him dumbfounded. It was difficult enough to believe what her mother had told her about them moving through time to rescue her, but as she looked into her father's grey-blue eyes she felt overwhelmed with the knowledge that he'd been possessed for so long by a vile, violent abnormal. And the man left behind, the physical shell the creature had used, was even more of a stranger to her than he had been before. He and the red headed woman holding onto her hand were strangers to her and all Ashley wanted was to return to the comfort of the Sanctuary. She gave a little sniffle and seemed to shrink back further into the chair.

Shooting Helen a worried look, for he had expected Ashley to behave in the opposite manner, John answered, "The time for returning Mr. Foss back to the cabal facility is nearing."

"What?!" Ashley bellowed and shot upright, startling her mother so that she would have fallen off the table had her father's hand not shot out and steadied her shoulder. "You can't return him there! They'll kill him!"

"Dana and her cronies had just entered the facility when we blew it all to hell," he smugly announced. "The facility was thereafter evacuated as the local authorities have descended upon the site," he informed her and stepped back to allow Helen to stand up beside him. "Not that they'll find much of anything since the Cabal apparently set off several smaller explosions in the lab areas to hide their tracks."

"So Dana escaped," Ashley guessed with a scowl. "Damn."

"She had to escape, Ashley," her mother countered. "The point of today was to rescue you while allowing the Cabal to think that you and Henry had been taken by hostile forces. Once Dana realizes it wasn't your parents… your _other parents_," she stressed, "that took you and that the other Helen is desperate for your return, she'll use your mother's distress to her advantage and pretend that the Cabal has you. No one else will be coming forward to challenge Dana's claim. The Cabal will proceed with the rest of their plan, albeit at a serious disadvantage without you."

"You mean because the superabnormals won't be able to teleport without me and my DNA," Ashley realized and looked at her father. "I could really teleport? Just like you?"

"Red flash and all," he confirmed with an almost proud look.

"And I was part vampire?" she asked in a horrified tone. "Black orbs for eyes, fangs and elongated nails and all?"

Her mother rubbed the side of her head to ward off the headache that was coming on and stared at her silly child. Of all the things that had been done to her by the Cabal it was the vampire part that Ashley seemed most stuck on. Well, also the part where she had sacrificed herself to save her mother but they were back to the vampire part again. For some reason that part freaked out her child the most.

"Let's not linger on that part," John scoffed. "That part was genetically introduced into you. The ability to teleport was always in you though it was… _is_ latent." He leaned down to look her in the eye. "You are the child of two source blood parents but you don't carry the vampire gene the way Tesla does. His was inherited and was activated when he took the blood serum. The Cabal had to completely wipe your DNA clean and then reintroduce their altered monstrosity of DNA to turn you into a vampire. We have prevented that from happening to you this go round."

"Well, thank God for that," the girl declared in obvious relief. "Seeing one in action was creepy enough. I certainly never want to experience being one."

"Oh that," John snorted and waved absently in the air. "Don't worry about Tesla. He's given up his plan for world domination, at least for a while, and will actually patch things up with your mother soon enough. He's still in love with her," he said and rolled his eyes at Helen, who rolled her eyes right back at him.

"Ew!" Ashley groaned and clamped her hands to her ears. "I so didn't need to know that." At her father's motioning to the door she dropped her hands and repeated emphatically that they couldn't return Henry to the Cabal facility.

"Don't worry," her mother tried to reassure her. "We've worked out how to return Henry without him being harmed by Dana or her subjects."

"Why couldn't you just kill her?" the distraught girl whined. "You said she did all those terrible things to us and other innocent people. Why let her live?"

"Because if I kill her now then my younger version won't have the pleasure of doing it himself. Jack needed the thrill… and I needed the information I gleaned from her."

"You tortured her, didn't you?" she whispered and felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"Yes, for quite some time," he openly admitted and then, seeing her fear, quickly added. "It was because of that that I knew all the details of the facility from which we pulled you and Mr. Foss. I made her tell me in detail everything that was done to you, where it was done, and how. And after she was finally dispatched I slowly walked every square inch of that facility trying to squelch the creature's blood lust while memorizing as much detail as I could. That's how I knew how to get us into the facility undetected and where the cameras and computer servers were."

"And how you knew where Henry and I would be," Ashley guessed.

"Partly," her mother interjected and reached out to gently touch the ruby heart on the claddagh ring hanging on a sturdy silver chain around her first born's neck. "We knew roughly the area you would be captured in, but your godfather made sure we knew exactly where you'd be standing so that John could teleport us out as quickly as possible. We knew there wouldn't be much time with Dana's imminent arrival looming."

Ashley gasped and touched the ring as well. "James said it was a good luck token."

"It is," her mother agreed and exchanged a knowing smile with John. The ring was the one he'd given her on her birthday so long ago when he was re-courting her and it was that very night, after Franco's attack, that she learned she was with child again.

"James insisted you it wear on your trip for a good reason," her father confessed. "He had a tracking device secretly installed in one of the hands before giving it to you. He gave Henry a similar silver charm to wear around his wrist."

"He bugged us?" Ashley cried. "I knew he was being weird when he separately presented us with the gifts but his whole 'I've got a bad feeling about this trip shtick please wear these good luck charms to alleviate my worried mind' was so convincing. And I guess it was you two he was referring to when he said that hopefully the angels would be looking down upon us and keep us safe from harm. Which was also weird since claddaghs aren't symbols of faith."

"No," her father agreed. "They're symbols of friendship, love, and loyalty. Things which enabled us to be where we are today. Safe and alive."

Shoulders sagging, the girl sighed deeply. "Except that I ragged Henry about wearing his so he tucked it into his pocket," she admitted with a frown as it occurred to her that if he'd left the charm behind at the Sanctuary then Henry might not have made it out of the Cabal facility alive. With the smoke and fire from the explosions around them it would have been easy to lose sight of Henry in that chaos.

"The device worked fine in his pocket. And it was just as well you both were unconscious when we arrived," he admitted with a soft laugh. "I'm not accustomed to moving three grown adults at one time; however, there was no alternative. We may have landed in a bit of a heap until arrival," he shared sheepishly.

"Yeah, I'm feeling rather banged up," the blonde admitted as she looked down at her rumpled clothing. She stared at her father again. "What are you going to do with Henry?" she persisted stubbornly.

"Return him to your vehicle. It's untampered with half a mile from the facility. We have it under surveillance and once your mother… your younger mother," he clarified, "gets your distress call she'll send my younger self to retrieve you. Only, of course, he'll find Henry alone and unconscious."

"And your gun will be found at another Cabal facility later on," her mother said as she reached for Ashley's discarded weapon. "We know of at least two other facilities that you were held at and John will arrange for his younger self to find it there and return it to the Sanctuary. You'll get your gun back when we finally return to the Sanctuary."

"Why do you need to leave my gun at a Cabal facility?" her daughter grumbled and went to reach for it only to have her mother pass it to her father first.

"Darling, I know your gun is very important to you but my younger self will see it as a sign that you've actually been killed. Short of leaving your lifeless body, we need a substitute and the blood covered gun will do the trick. She'll never stop looking for you otherwise."

"How are you planning on getting my blood on there," Ashley squeaked and pressed herself up against the chair's high back.

"It's already on there," her mother gently replied and watched as John tilted the weapon in the light so that Ashley could see the dark, dried splotches along the gun's carriage and handle. "We were all banged up in the great escape." Helen was sympathetic to her child's distress and wanted to hug her again but she didn't want to force herself upon Ashley's person. Her daughter had yet to willingly seek any physical comfort from her and she would wait until Ashley let her know she was ready for such contact.

It was only then that Ashley noticed that all three of them showed signs of being hurt. John's left hand was bandaged and he seemed to be holding it against himself unnaturally as if to support its weight. Her mother's face was flawless as usual but the girl suspected that her mother's long sleeves and pants were hiding numerous bumps and bruises from their recent escapade. Ashley had seen her own reflection in her mother's mirror earlier and knew the bruises and cuts on her face would match ones she would later find on her person once she undressed.

"If it's so dangerous to go back at the Sanctuary can't we keep Henry here, with us?" she doggedly continued. The thought of being separated from him and staying here with these strangers, though they were her parents, terrified her.

"I'm sorry," her mother apologized. "He's needed there to keep everyone alive. Me and him included. If it's any consolation, Henry will make a very important discovery about himself and his kind after this whole Cabal mess is resolved. One that he will be thrilled about."

"His kind?" Ashley repeated. "I thought he was the only one of his kind left."

"Not only is he not the last of his kind," John said amiably, "he also meets a pretty little werewolf he'll be head over heels about." He ignored Helen's chastising "John!"

"A girl? Henry meets a girl werewolf?" Ashley exclaimed in surprise. Geez, everyone did just carry on with their lives after she died Ashley thought morosely.

Her mother must have guessed what she was thinking for she tried to cheer her up. "We'll see Henry again, don't fret."

"In four year's time," the girl wailed. "That's like forever! I don't think I can wait that long."

"You won't have to," Helen tried to say but was interrupted.

"You said we had to wait four years to rejoin the timeline and go home," Ashley unhappily reminded her.

Seeing her daughter tearing up, she reached for her daughter's hand and gave it a squeeze. "We can visit with Henry on the sly once the case with the empath is resolved." She refused to go into any details and instead steered the girl toward the doorway. "Let's check on Henry and make sure he's still sleeping. You need to make a brief distress recording for help that John can send to my younger counterpart when he drops Henry off. Your father will stay within safe range to make sure Henry's safely picked up and returned to the Sanctuary."

Half an hour later a still slumbering Henry was returned to his vehicle and the distress signal was sent off from Ashley's phone, which afterwards was tucked into Henry's front pocket. The ever watchful abnormal, hidden at a safe distance, made sure that the boy was picked up before he returned to his family. He knew that the next few months would be difficult ones for Ashley as she adjusted to her new home and family. He suspected Amelia would have a bit of a tough time of it as well as she would now have to compete for her mother's attention. Yes, there was going to be drama in their happy little household. And no sooner had he set foot into the hallway leading to the kitchen when he heard a loud shout down the hall of "Hey, what do you think you're doing!"


	62. Deeper Down the Well

Chapter 62: Deeper Down the Well

If she thought the last three hours were overwhelming it was nothing compared to the next ones that faced her as her mother led her into the mountain to an ancient city that would serve as a safe house for the next four years. The redhead had been amused at her daughter's wide-eyed reaction of "cool!" when the futuristic rail-ball took off and raced at high speed toward the city. Still in awe of her surroundings, the willowy girl silently followed her mother across the retractable steel bridge through the front entrance of the city and up the stone staircase to the living quarters.

It wasn't until she was standing alone in the kitchen area that she began to feel the beginnings of a panic attack bubbling up within. Her mother had apologetically left her in search of her younger sister, who was supposed to have been playing in the family room attached to the kitchen and dining areas. The family room looked more like a play room judging by the number of toys and pieces of child-sized furniture scattered about. The white washed stone walls were bright and the furniture and curtains cheerful. Thin metal string was hung on one wall from which colorful drawings by a child were suspended with pink clothespins.

Dropping her backpack onto the floor by the kitchen island, Ashley numbly looked around and finally ended up in front of the tall, slanted windows to stare out across the vast open space. She felt small in comparison and blinked repeatedly to keep from crying. She just wanted to be home and this place was not home. Home was where Henry the geek was busy tweaking his many inventions and excitedly playing his video games on his tablet … where the Big Guy puttered around reminding everyone to pick up after themselves for he wasn't their mother while wearing an apron and holding a feather duster in one hand … and where the imperious Helen Magnus ruled the roost with a firm hand.

"I want my mom," the blonde thought with a whimper, surprised at how homesick she felt for the familiarity of home. Anxiety attack reviving up a notch, Ashley clutched at the window ledge with both hands and fussed at herself to get a grip. "Mom's here," she reminded herself. "She's just… not quite mom." Frowning, she thought ungraciously, "she's mom here… but not for me. I can't believe they went and had another rugrat!" She couldn't decide what had been more distressing to learn. The fact that she'd died, the fact that her parents had moved through time to retrieve her, the fact that her father was supposedly no longer a nutcase now that he'd been free from an evil energy elemental, or the fact that her parents, who were as ancient as the hills, had reproduced. Her next thought was that no one that old should be having sex. This was followed by visible cringing on her part as her disgusted mind rejected the idea of her parents having had sex. "Gross, gross, gross," she muttered under her breath and cringed again. Groaning, she pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the window. "I am sooo going to need therapy after this. Forget therapy, I'm going to need drugs. Lots and lots of drugs. I wonder if this is what being on LSD is like," she mused. "Nah, I'd be enjoying myself then. This plain sucks."

Her pity party was disrupted by snuffling noises and what sounded like someone sifting through and tossing items aside. Pivoting on her heels, the distracted girl turned around and froze in alarm. The large navy backpack with leather trimmings had fallen flat onto the floor and was erratically moving from side to side. John had retrieved the pack upon her request when dropping Henry off in the car, and he had quietly left it with her so that she and Helen to reacquaint themselves as the older woman gave Ashley the grant tour of her new home. That same backpack was currently under attack by some unseen thing. "What the heck?" she muttered and cautiously moved closer.

The bag moved again, causing her to jump. Then what looked like a furry tail and two short hairy legs wiggled back out from the bag's interior, pushing out a few more of Ashley's items onto the floor. Captivated, Ashley cautiously moved forward as the front half of the creature emerged. Spotting her looking at him, it squeaked in fear and froze momentarily. The two stared at one another, both uncertain what to do.

The cinnamon colored creature, which was roughly the size of a small, pear-shaped dog, sniffed the air loudly again and, deciding the girl wasn't much of a threat, dove head first back in the backpack. "Hey, what do you think you're doing?!" Ashley cried and rushed around to seize it by its middle. It gave a muffled squeal and pedaled its back paws in attempt to escape the stranger's grasp. "Get out of there!" Ashley ordered and yanked hard. Too hard. She went flying backwards and ended up sprawled on her back with a loud "oomph!" Luckily she didn't hit her head but the weight of the creature as it landed on her midriff knocked the wind out of her.

"Is there a problem?" a male voice asked as he peered down over them.

Scrunching up her face, Ashley stared up at her father. "I caught this _thing_," she exclaimed as she struggled to sit up and pointed at the little offender who had scampered off her to sit right back next to the bag, "rifling through my belongings."

"Puppy," John reprimanded in his deep, melodic voice, "You know we don't take things that belong to others in this household. That is not your bag."

"Puppy?" Ashley repeated as she stood back up and looked down at the inquisitive creature. "That's a dog? I thought it was some kind of funny looking raccoon."

John laughed. "Not quite. He's some sort of rare abnormal form of river otter whose proper name I can never remember. Your mother will know that. The soubriquet 'Puppy' was assigned to him by Amelia."

Shifting her eyes at him, she asked quietly, "That's your daughter?"

"Amelia is my youngest daughter," the tall man gently replied. "You are my oldest." He stressed the last part to let her know he considered both girls important to him. What little he knew of Ashley made him feel that she was not only a mama's girl but also that she would not take competition for Helen's attention well. His plan was to temper her jealously with frequent reminders that she was as important as her little sister. "And I suppose you should be forewarned that Puppy is under the distinct impression that he's the baby of this family."

"Come again?" she said and returned her focus to the creature only to discover that he'd used her conversation with Druitt to return inside her backpack. "Oh, not again!" she groaned and moved to grab the animal once more.

Her father beat her to it, pulling the fur ball out easily with his good right hand. Standing back upright John looked down at his hairy "son" and in doing so his eyes fairly bugged out. Puppy had his head stuck through a silky, thin piece of red flowered fabric with elastic edging. Embarrassed, John immediately looked away as his red faced daughter exclaimed, "Hey, you little pervert! Give that back!" and quickly snatched her thong underpants off the creature's head.

Puppy gave an indignant series of squeaks and tucked his head down to rub his neck with his front paws. The strange girl had yanked hard on his neck when she pulled the fabric away. "Bad boy," he heard his "dad" fuss at him as the big man shifted him into a more comfortable position in his right arm. John's left hand, which was badly sprained and bruised, hung loosely by his side.

The two watched as Ashley bent down and haphazardly shoved everything back into her bag. The meager number of items inside, which included two spare changes of clothing and a burner phone, were at the moment her only worldly possessions and the girl felt very protective of the items due to this fact. "We are never to speak of this again," she said, referring to the thong incident.

"Agreed," John swiftly consented. He sure as hell wasn't about to tell Helen or anyone else he'd seen his oldest daughter's underpants, even if it was only hanging around the otter's neck.

"Is he always like this?" she asked irritably as she zipped the bag closed.

"He is nosy by nature," her father shared, "but he generally steers clear of women's undergarments ever since your mother read him the riot act following his dragging one of her bras around the household for all to see. I don't know who was more horrified. Your mother or Gregory."

"You're joking," Ashley laughed and felt a little of the tension release from her taunt shoulders.

"It's true," John chuckled. "James and I thought we were going to bust a gut laughing as we watched your mother chase him down the hall followed by your two year old sister loudly inquiring why Puppy was wearing a bra like mummy and declaring that she wanted to wear one too. And puppy did chose one of your mother's fancier lace ones too."

"Okay, I could have done without that last part," the girl complained as she stood up and dropped the bag onto the top of the kitchen island. Facing her father again, Ashley's eyes narrowed and her arms crossed. "So, that's what you were really after."

Brows furrowing, John looked down at the fur ball in his hold. Puppy, trying but failing to look innocent, had a small, yellow sponge cake encased in plastic in his little arms and was trying to hide it against his chest. "Ah," John nodded with understanding. "The otter does have a big sweet tooth. As evidenced by the little paunch around his middle." He received a loud raspberry sound of annoyance from the otter, who glared up at him with its icy blue eyes. It didn't like being called fat. "Language, young man," John corrected.

The creature squealed loudly as Ashley yanked the treat free from his tight grip and waved it tauntingly at him. "You snooze you lose," she said. "And for future reference, no one touches my Twinkies and lives. Got it, hairball?"

Puppy struggled to get free from his father's grasp and was lowered to the ground before he fell. Immediately he waddled over to the blonde and stood up on his hind legs to pull on Ashley's jeans while squeaking animatedly at her. "Forget it," she shook her head and pointed a finger at the animal. "I share my Twinkies with no one." She paused as Puppy put his front paws together and held them up at her. "Is he begging?" she asked in surprise.

"He really, really likes his sweets," her father answered and sternly told the animal "No! That does not belong to you. There's food in your bowl if you're hungry."

Puppy ignored him and gave Ashley a sad look coupled with a whine. From the moment he smelled the sweetness of the treat he knew he had to have it. And in all fairness he generally got what he wanted if he was persistent enough. He figured if he hounded this new member of the household he'd get his way as well. He gave a louder wail and tugged on her pants again when the girl instead hid the treat away in the pocket of her leather jacket. "Any particular reason he's wearing a little Star Wars t-shirt?" she asked with a tilt of her head as she continued to stare at the agitated animal. He was actually a very beautiful creature and from the little time she'd spent with him she began to suspect that he was rather intelligent. He'd figured out the Twinkie was in the zipped interior pocket of the bag and had gotten it out before she knew what he was up to. Under any other circumstances she would have find him absolutely adorable and be stroking him. However, she was still feeling weary of her surroundings and for all she knew the creature could be vicious if it wanted to be. Her father did mention the creature was an abnormal.

"He has a scar from the trapper that we rescued him from as a newborn. He likes to wear the shirts to hide the scar. Puppy is as attached to his shirts as you are to your Twinkies it seems."

The quick clicking of heels drew their attention to the doorway, through which a worried Helen entered. "I can't find Amelia," she exclaimed. "She isn't in any of the bedrooms or bathrooms above."

"Have you checked with Gregory?" John asked with a frown.

"Not yet," she answered with a shake of her head. "I wanted to make sure Ashley was okay before I went downstairs."

"Grandpa's still here?" the blonde asked.

"I picked him up shortly after he left the Sanctuary," her father said and moved to leave the room. "Let's go find them."

"No," Ashley hissed at the otter as he ran beside her and squeaked up at her. Helen, who was walking in front of her, looked over her shoulder at her daughter questioningly. Ashley shrugged and kept walking. She had to concentrate as they descended the stairs so as not to trip over the fuzz ball as he raced down beside them. The feeling of awe hit the girl once more as they made their way to the library.

The elderly doctor, grey head bent over a large, leather bound volume and scribbling notes into one of his prized journals, jumped in his seat as the door of the library banged open when the large form of Druitt barged in. "Gregory, have you seen Amelia?"

"She was with Lucy earlier. They said something about making a gift for Ashley," the older man answered. His eyes lit up at the sight of his oldest granddaughter entering behind her mother. Helen's plan to rescue her child had been a success it appeared. Pushing his chair back, Gregory stood to meet them. He barely knew Ashley, the fault of which was entirely his own, and he planned to right that by making a concerted effort to get to know her properly. Spending time with little Amelia had been such an unexpected delight for the old man who thought he would never get to experience the joys of grandchildren. He suspected that getting to know her feisty older sister would prove just as interesting. "Ashley, my dear," he greeted her as he pulled her into a big hug. "It is so good to see you again."

The warmth of her grandfather's words and hug touched her. For the first time since arriving at this bizarre place Ashley felt at home. The old man felt her melt against him and hugged her tighter. Of course she was overwhelmed. She'd been plucked out of her timeline with little warning or recourse. Rubbing her back with his left hand, Gregory whispered in her ear, "It will be alright, my child. You're safe and with the people that love you. Hang on and things will get better."

Helen observed the pair's prolonged embrace and her daughter's silent nod, and exchanged a worried glance with John. While she was glad that Ashley was letting down some of her walls to accept comfort from her family it hurt that it wasn't her that her child sought that comfort from. Gregory was the most unfamiliar person to Ashley in the room. Perhaps that's why the girl did accept his comfort.

"Well," Gregory said as he released his granddaughter, "let's go find the littlest Magnus, shall we?"

"Druitt," John groused and shot him a disgruntled look. "Her last name is Druitt."

"Druitt-Magnus," his would-have-been father-in-law shot back. Helen might have been able to forgive the big ox for his past transgressions but Gregory was not able to entirely let it go.

Helen rolled her eyes. She'd grown accustomed to the two men's pissing contest and wasn't in the mood to deal with it. At the moment all she wanted was her youngest child standing next to her oldest. She'd waited a long time for this meeting. "They weren't top side; otherwise we would have seen them on our way into the city. They must be down by the river banks." She whirled around and set off down the hall toward the stairs. John had been nervous about the two girls meeting but Helen was looking forward to it. The sooner they met the sooner they could bond and develop a proper sibling relationship. It was important that Ashley took to her younger sister. Should anything happen to the adults Ashley would be the one to take charge of the child and without that familial bond the girl would not be able to do so. John had blanched at the thought of Ashley being a parent to the four year old but Helen knew that her oldest had the strength to carry on if need be. They'd have to get past the uncomfortable and competitive stages first.

She'd gotten down two flights of stairs and was about to go down the next when, to her relief, she spied two figures heading up towards her. She stepped back as the smaller one rushed toward her.

"Mummy!" Amelia called out with a big smile. In her hands the child carried a large bouquet of bright flowers that had been tied up with robin's blue ribbon.

"Where have you been, you naughty child," her mother sighed as she knelt down and hugged the girl to her tightly.

"We were picking flowers," she answered and shoved the bouquet in her mother's face. "I picked them just for you and Ashley! Smell them! They smell really good, especially the blue ones," the child gushed.

Leaning forward, Helen admired the colors of the blue, purple and white bouquet. It was amazing to her that plants not only grew down in Avalon but flourished as well. The strong vanilla-ish scent of the large blue poppy-like blossoms caught her attention and she took a deep whiff and smiled. "They smell lovely," she praised.

"Sorry, Helen," Lucy breathlessly apologized as she came to stand next to them. "We were so busy picking flowers and talking about fairies that we simply lost track of time." Focusing her attention on the others that had arrived onto the landing, she smiled in greeting. "Hello, you must be Ashley," she said amiably and extended her hand.

A second later, Amelia let out a squeak of terror and hid against her mother's torso as her grandfather surprised them all by striking Lucy's hand away with his cane and yelling, "Stay back!"


	63. To the River

Chapter 63: To the River

"Ow!" Lucy cried out in pain and withdrew her hand to press it against her chest. She rubbed at it with the other one to alleviate the stinging and in the process dropped her bouquet on the ground. Wide eyed, she stared at her attacker, the last person in the world she would expect to strike her.

"Father!" Helen reprimanded and put a comforting arm around her youngest child who had buried her face against her mother's chest. "What in the world has come over you?"

"What's going on?" a tall, muscular man demanded as he approached behind them. He'd arrived just in time to see the old doctor strike Lucy with his cane.

Holding up a hand, Gregory ordered, "Don't touch them! They're most likely infected!"

"What?!" everyone seemed to exclaim at one time and began talking over one another.

"Quiet!" the elder Magnus barked and edgy silence descended upon the confused group.

Ashley's eyes had zeroed in on the child from the moment Amelia came within view. As she stared at Amelia interacting with her mother… correction, their mother… she felt her chest constrict in pain. Not only from hearing the child call Helen "mummy" but also from the fact that she looked so much like Ashley had when she was that age. There were some differences though. Amelia had soft, natural curls in her long blonde hair, her eyes were not as blue as Ashley's, her dimples were more pronounced, and she spoke with a British accent. For some reason that last part annoyed Ashley. She could just imagine her father gloating about the fact that Amelia spoke the Queen's English properly as opposed to her lack of the accent, which was ironic considering Ashley did speak with an English accent when she was a young child. She even called her mother "mummy" for a time. The accent faded over the years as she was surrounded by other types of accents.

At the unknown man's approach, Ashley's eyes had flickered over to the newcomer as he called out in concern over Lucy. Their eyes had locked briefly during the silent standoff following Gregory's announcement and the breath that Ashley hadn't known she was holding came swooshing out in a harsh huff. Her heart rate ratcheted up and all sound seemed to flee from around her. All she could hear was the pounding of her pulse in her ear.

Just as rapidly sound rushed back around her. "Father, what do you mean infected?" Helen demanded and moved only to stop to rub at her face. It was tingling and felt itchy.

"That's what I mean by infected," Gregory answered and looked around the hallway for anything that would be of help. "Those lovely blue flowers with the vanilla scent are poisonous."

"Poisonous!" Lucy cried as she too began to feel itchy and wiggled slightly. "How poisonous…"

The rest of her question was cut off as Amelia pushed away from her mother and began rasping for breath. "Mum…my! Can't… breathe!" the hysterical child harshly gasped as she wildly clawed at her throat, producing raw red streaks upon her pale skin.

Helen grabbed her daughter's hands to prevent her from doing further damage. "Father!"

"No contact with their skin or clothing! The poison is spread through the microscopic pollen," Gregory ordered as he pulled off his long sleeved sweater and rushed forward toward his granddaughter. "Helen, hold her hands by her side while I wrap her up." Swiftly, he wrapped his knitted sweater backwards around the child, wincing as he heard her shallow wheezing, and tied the sweater's arms lightly behind Amelia's back. "John, you get Amelia and Lucy down to the medical wing first. They've had longer contact than Helen. Don't touch them directly!" the shrewd doctor directed.

Nodding, John disappeared briefly only to reappear with the lightweight blanket from the foot of his bed. He draped the blue fabric around Lucy's shoulders, ignoring the girl's grunts as she struggled not to scratch at her face and hands, and accepted his youngest daughter into his arms from Helen's father. His face tightened at the paleness of the four year old's face and her gasping-crying mix tore at his heart. Her cheeks were tear stained and she struggled to say "Da… ddy!" as she looked up at him. Once Amelia was safely settled into his arms, he moved close enough to Lucy to press his hand against her elbow and the trio disappeared in a swirl of red.

"You lot get downstairs," Gregory said to the others. "I'll go down with John and Helen."

Ashley nodded and moved to descend the stairs by her mother, who was wiggling like she had ants on her pants, and was about to go down when the man called to her as he walked by. "This way. Follow me."

"Okay," Ashley agreed to no one in particular and walked after him. It occurred to her that she had no idea where she was going and that this place was a confusing series of staircases and floors. They headed back the way Ashley had come with her parents, moved past the library and ascended a staircase at the other side to go two floors down. "How many staircases does this place have?" she wondered as they pounded down the stone steps

By the time they reached the medical wing both were out of breath. He held the door open for her after punching in the password into the keypad and she unintentionally brushed against him as she entered. Inside, he led her down another hall from which several smaller rooms were connected. "I don't know which room they're in," he spoke for first time since they'd left the others. "You check to the right, I'll look to the left."

"Right," she said and tackled the task with gusto. "They're back here!" she called over her shoulder as she caught sight of her father's back at the other end of a side hallway. He and Gregory could be heard loudly talking in gruff tones. She skidded to a stop nearby and bent over at the waist to catch her breath. A loud smacking sound caused her to look up. The otter had skidded into the glass door and was shaking itself with a low whine. It then looked into the glass, saw Amelia lying in her mother's arms on the other side, let out a high pitched cry and began scratching at the glass with its front paws.

Pressing her hand against the stitch in her side, Ashley stumbled closer to discover that the two women and her little sister were inside a glass enclosure. The two women were seated on wooden benches and sagged against the wall. Amelia, freed from the constraints of the sweater, had an oxygen mask held over her face by her equally pale faced mother. Ashley squinted as she pressed her face against the glass. "Do they have spots on their faces and arms or am I just imagining that?" she asked aloud.

"The poison is trying to shut down their breathing," Gregory explained as he adjusted the dials on a flat panel to the far left of the enclosure. "I've given Amelia a shot for her allergic reaction. Your father and I are reducing the temperature to slow down the poison's reaction and adding moisture to the enclosure to improve their breathing." To John, he barked, "Open the panel half a degree more."

Ashley looked over to her father, who was working an old hand crank. He let go and rejoined them. "Now what?" he asked as he stared worriedly at his family on the other side of the glass. The otter continued to wail and pitifully swipe at the glass in its ongoing effort to reach those on the other side. John reached down and placed his good hand heavily upon onto the creature's head. "They'll be okay, Puppy. Calm down." The otter gave a muffled squawk and received reassuring strokes on his head by his human father that seemed to do the trick.

Gregory scratched at his beard and sighed. "Eventually, you'll need to gather a clean set of clothing for each of them. And towels. Once they're stabilized they'll need to wash the pollen off. Unfortunately they'll need to do that inside the enclosure and it will be freezing. Select warm clothing, particularly for the child."

Turning to face the younger pair, he continued. "Meanwhile, you two need to collect the berries required for the antidote. Wear leather gloves to avoid the blue flowers. The berries are produced by the flower once they fade. Collect the ripened red ones, not the green ones. And by all means avoid the small, nasty thorns. Take the otter with you," he instructed with a nod of his head toward the anxious animal who had its face pressed flat against the glass and was steaming it up its warm breath. "He may be able to squeeze into some of the tighter spots for the berries."

"He might get infected," the younger man pointed out.

The older man shook his head. "He'll be fine. The poison affects only human and semi-humans."

"If you knew that, why didn't you warn us about the plants to begin with?" John accused with hands on hips. Honestly, there were times when he wanted to throttle Helen's balmy father.

"I forgot about them," Gregory shot back grumpily. "It's been decades since I last saw them and I'm an old man. I can't remember everything." He glared at Druitt as the bigger man snorted in disgust. To the children, he added, "Half a pound is probably all that is needed but if possible try to gather at least a pound if you can. I have never made this antidote before and might require the extra berries. God speed on your expedition. Move quickly but carefully. The thorns are razor sharp."

The younger man nodded, reached down to scoop up the otter who squealed unhappily at being pulled away from its post by the glass, and motioned for Ashley to join him. As they headed out Ashley heard her grandfather tell John his first task was to search the library for a particular book on the flora and fauna of Avalon. "The antidote is within. The book will be a large, moss green leather bound text with red lettering. If memory serves me right I believe the tooled cover has a six leaved plant inside of a circle."

Ashley followed the man through another maze of hallways and rooms to what looked like a combination of a large wood and metal workshop. "Since we're about to tackle vicious, poisonous plants in search for berries, it might be nice to exchange names," she suggested as he was digging through a cabinet in search of long leather gloves and small plastic pails. "Nick," he replied and gave her a brief smile that revealed a dimple in his left cheek. "And you're Ashley, the girl whose parents traveled through time to recover."

Accepting a pair of black leather gloves and a short pail, she retorted, "Yeah, that's me. The girl time left behind for dead apparently." He shot her a sharp look and she dropped her gaze and pulled on the gloves. "So, um, where are these plants anyway?"

"Growing up onto the lower levels of the city. We'll head down another two levels to the upper terrace and work our way down along the various stepped terraces to collect the berries." He leaned down and placed his hands on his knees as he addressed the otter. "Puppy, we need your help getting the berries. It's important. Amelia needs the berries to get well. You must pick the red berries. Stay away from the thorns. Understand?" He held up a small, black nylon basket with the Batman logo on it and repeated that Puppy needed to pick the red berries. The otter bobbed its head and rose on its hind legs to take the basket into its small front paws.

"A Star Wars t-shirt and now a Batman Halloween basket. Don't tell me he's a science fiction nerd and sleeps with a Spock doll?" Ashley joked as she stared down at the otter which had transferred the basket to his mouth and was back on all fours.

"He sleeps with a little stuffed mermaid doll named Ariel," Nick replied with a grin as he stood back up. "He's in love with her red hair. And what's wrong with being a nerd?"

"Nothing," she shrugged. "My best friend is the biggest one in the world and he sleeps in his Justice League pajamas with one hand on his tablet and the other on his remote."

"Sounds like an interesting guy," her new partner said as he pulled on his own gloves and picked up his basket.

"He is, she smirked. "He's a werewolf."

Her smirk grew larger as a pair of astonished green eyes looked back at her. "You're making that up," he accused as he lead them to the terrace. "There's no such thing as werewolves."

"Not only does he exist, at 5 foot 9 inches he's gorgeous and a brilliant computer geek who can build any number of specialized weaponry." After Nick shot her a skeptical look that clearly said he thought she was screwing with him she shrugged. "It's true. Ask my mom. She raised him."

"Next thing you're going to tell me that vampires, unicorns and mermaids exits as well," he retorted as they fell into step side by side. The otter waddled before them with his little basket swing to and fro.

"Don't be silly," she said with a sniff. "There's no such thing as a unicorn. Unfortunately. I wanted a unicorn with glittered ribbons in its hair very badly as a kid and never got one under the Christmas tree despite all my handwritten notes to Santa begging for one." They both laughed at that. "As for mermaids, we have one in the Sanctuary named Sally. Well, that's not really her name but no one can actually pronounce her name correctly. It sounds like a cross between a lot of low hissing and spitting. Like a pissed off cat having its tail pulled on by a snotty kid."

"Right, Sally the mermaid," he nodded, clearly not believing her. "Let me guess. You were the one to name her as a kid?"

"How did you know?" she asked in genuine surprise.

He pointed at the otter who had stopped briefly to scratch at his ear with his back paw. "Naming things oddly seems to run in the family," he dryly commented.

"Hmmm," she murmured with a frown at the thought that she and Amelia shared another similarity. "And you might want to ask my father about his and my mother's Oxford classmate, Nikola Tesla."

"The famous inventor?" Nick asked with a raised brow as he punched in the password to open the metal exterior door to the upper terrace. He pushed it open and held the door for her as any proper gentleman would do.

"Yeah, that's the one," she said as she glided past him. "He also went to school with my uncle, James Watson. Besides being brilliant Tesla's also a vampire. Wants to repopulate the world with his kind and bring it back into the Golden Age, as the height of vampire rule was called. He's completely bat shit crazy." She didn't have to look behind her to know that his mouth had fallen open. Smug that she'd won their little conversation competition, she walked past the long benches along the curved terrace to begin descending the stone steps.

Behind her, Nick clamped his mouth shut and shook himself. She was a mouthy female with a wild imagination. Mermaids, werewolves and vampires? Okay, so he knew the Sanctuary Network dealt with a lot of incredible creatures but really. A vampire? He was definitely going to ask James about that one. As he walked down the stairs behind her the thought that she had a great figure flittered across his mind. He scowled. Where the heck did that come from? And even if she was the most beautiful woman in the world… which he was not saying she was… she was the daughter of a pair of scary human beings. Anyone who got involved with Ashley Magnus had to be half barking mad himself. He was pulled from his ridiculous thoughts when they arrived on the lowest level across from the river bank.

"Okay, this is cool," Ashley confessed as she looked at the water and then back up at the city walls, upon which a lot of vegetation was growing up into the rocky crevices of the white stone.

"It is," he agreed. They were both silent for a moment as they surveyed the climbing vines with the striking blue flowers that tilted downward tantalizingly. The large petals with their deep blue coloring were beautiful and the heady scent of vanilla hung in the air. Wicked looking thorns were visible on the dense stalks of the vines. "This is not going to be fun," he muttered.

"Nope," she agreed and collectively they sighed. Even the otter seemed to droop at the sight.


	64. When It Rains It Pours Part 1

Author's Note: Wow, thanks for all the lovely reviews this weekend! It pushed me to work through my latest writer's block to finally finish the next chapter.

Chapter 64: When It Rains It Pours Part 1

"Okay, this officially sucks," the blonde complained as she dropped a partially smashed red berry into her plastic pail and stretched her aching right wrist. The pail was only a third of the way filled and this was after a good 45 minutes of picking and ducking poisonous blossoms. The bulk of the reddened berries were located higher up and further back than a human could easily reach. She and Nick had carted in a pair of ladders to help with distance issue but collecting the berries was still slow work. "I say we shoot off the base of the plants and bring the whole thing down. Then we can easily collect these stupid berries."

"No go," he shook his head and reached for his bottle of water. He was sweating and wanted badly to remove his shirt but with the plants' sharp thorns that wasn't a good idea. The cool water was a great relief to his overly warmed body and he guzzled a third of the bottle before continuing. Who would have though picking bloody berries would be this exhausting? "The plants are part of the ecosystem of this city. They help purify the air, making it safe for humans to live down here. As such they're tied into the security system's ventilation component. James was able to translate the text that explained how it all works." He frowned and stared back at the plants. "Odd that the text didn't mention anything about the poisonous flowers."

"Perhaps the flowers appeared after the text was written," she suggested and swiped her hand across her sweating forehead. She desperately wanted to shed her leather jacket but instead pushed up her sleeves as far as they would go and followed her new partner's lead to guzzle down some cold water. "Is this James someone else who lives here?" she asked as she fanned herself.

"He does from time to time," Nick replied with a smile. "And you're already acquainted with him as he's your godfather."

"Oh," she exclaimed. "Mom told me about James' part in finding this place and helping my parents abduct me from the Cabal but I hadn't realized James was actually living here."

"It's kind of hard to live here in secret while serving as head of the London Sanctuary," he shared. "Your dad shuttles him back and forth through a safe house they've set up but the visits are few and far in between. It'll be nice to have him visit longer."

"It's weird to think of him, my dad and my mom all working together," she admitted and decided to change the subject. The newcomer might not be aware of the Five's history and she certainly wasn't going to be the one to spill the beans. Few it seemed knew the true story of that crazy bunch. She didn't until very recently and she was related biologically to two of them. Waving a hand at the city before them, she commented, "This whole thing is weird."

He chuckled. "I know. We were gobsmacked when we arrived too." He didn't clarify who "we" were and Ashley guessed he was referring to the beautiful woman named Lucy who had tried to introduce herself to Ashley earlier. She wondered if they were a couple and swiftly threw a sidelong glance at his left hand. No ring. Not that that meant anything these days. Biting her lip, she berated herself to get a grip. She barely knew the man and here she was wondering if he was married. Good grief she was a mess. She decided to return her focus to the task at hand. "There has got to be a better way to do this," she grumbled as they both continued to rest against the stone retaining wall. Before them, to their right, they heard snuffling. "Puppy, if you eat one more berry I'm going to tape your snout shut," Nick called out. "And no more treats for a week. That's a promise!"

An unpleasant gacking sound was heard as the otter spit out the berry and crunching sounds followed as four paws padding across leaves and vines to move closer to them. A moment later the creature appeared at the base of the vines and headed over to them. He dropped his little nylon basket in Nick's lap, scrunched up his face and used his back paws to scratch at his ears. The two humans looked down to stare at the contents of his haul.

"Not bad for a hairball with little T-Rex front paws," Ashley commented. "He's managed to pick more than either of us despite eating some of his pickings." She blinked in surprise as the otter, realizing he'd been slurred though he didn't really understand how, looked up at her with his ice blue eyes and blew a loud raspberry at her. It then went back to scratching itself under the chin and upper chest. Hearing laughter beside her, she turned to glare at Nick.

Still grinning, he leaned down and scratched the otter on the back with both hands. "Your little sister taught him how to do that when they were both two years old. And you, you naughty boy," he said to the otter, "know perfectly well you're allergic to berries. Keep this up and a nice shot is coming your way." He chuckled as the horrified creature looked up at him with wide eyes. "That's right," he said as he poked the otter in the nose. "Too many berries and a lovely shot will follow. So I suggest that you continue to put the berries in the basket and not eat anymore." The otter gave an unhappy squeak, picked up his basket in his mouth and scuttled back over to the plants.

"Does he really understand everything people say to him?" Ashley asked before finishing off her bottle of water and standing up.

Her partner followed. "Maybe not every word but he gets the gist for the most part. And sometimes he just ignores you and does whatever he wants anyway. He's very much like Amelia that way." He didn't acknowledge Ashley's visibly bristling at the mention of her younger sibling. No doubt a case of sibling rivalry was ripe for the making within this shaky new relationship. He turned his attention back to the problem on hand. "Let's try something else. Otherwise we'll be here all day." Together, the pair set up the long painter's ladder that rested horizontally like an upside "U" shape. Once sure it was steady, the two pushed it as far as they could into the plants and both climbed on. Pushing the ladder into the vines allowed them to get further inside and turn around to collect the berries that grew behind the vines. Nick called the otter to join them and lifted the creature up onto his shoulder to grab for those berries out of the humans' reach. "Fill that basket as fast as you can and I'll make you a nice fresh salmon sandwich minus the bread," he promised the excited animal.

Section by section they worked their way along the two lower terraces. Hearing a musical laugh next to him, Nick grunted, "Oh, shut up!" to the blonde and glared at her with his one eye. The other eye was blocked by the otter's nylon bag as the creature sat on his head and reached forward for more berries. They were 90 percent near their goal. Both of Nick's hands were above his head around the otter's waist to keep it from falling off.

"Oh, where's that camera when you need one," Ashley giggled again as she twisted to get a better look. "I sure hope he's potty trained, otherwise you might be getting an unpleasant shower soon."

"He is toilet trained," the rugged man confirmed, "which you'll find out when you have your turn. My arms need a rest."

"No way," she snorted and frowned as her elbow caught on some thorns and she had to wiggle to get free. "You're not putting an oversized rodent on my head. I don't care how intelligent he is."

The otter paused in his task to aim an icy glare her way and gave a series of angry hisses as he tried to bare his fangs at her without dropping the basket in his mouth. "Careful," Nick reprimanded as he steadied the indignant creature. "You drop that bag of berries and you have to start all over again. And ignore her. She's obviously not well educated enough to know the different between a rodent and a mammal."

It was her turn to be indignant. "Excuse me, I happen to be very well educated. While other kids got to attend regular school and play I had to endure private tutors who taught me useless skills such as Latin and Greek. And then there's my mother's constant blah blah blah about history being all important."

The left corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. It accentuated his only dimple. She was going to love the fact that the signs around the city were in two languages, one of which was Latin. He was betting that her translation skills were a wee bit rusty.

Thinking he was smirking at her, she crossed her arms defensively. "And I know enough math to know exactly where to bounce on this ladder to knock you both off into the vines without nary a scratch to myself, buddy, so you'd better wipe that smirk off your mug. Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I'm stupid."

"No need to get huffy, madam," he cheekily returned as he lifted the otter off his head and placed Puppy down onto the flat surface of the horizontal ladder. He ran a hand through his wavy brown hair to shake off the tingling feeling of his scalp going to sleep. "No disrespect was meant. I am more than accustomed to dealing with women of intelligence."

"Madam?" she repeated in a shrill tone and placed her hands on her hips. "I am not old enough to be a madam. Madam is my mother."

This time he did smirk at her. "I'll keep that in mind. Meanwhile, my arms are aching. We've almost collected enough berries. You'll need to hold Puppy up to get that last batch," he instructed as he pointed at the red dots above her head. "And watch the flowers. They're more dense here."

"Forget it," she shot back. "Not happening." Below her she heard the otter aim a loud raspberry up at her followed by a snort of derision. "Right back at ya hairball," she retorted.

"We just need a few more," Nick grumpily commanded as he rubbed both his arms. "I need a break to get the feeling back into my arms. We've been at this far too long. Gregory is waiting for us to make the antidote. Now pick up the otter and get it done," he ordered in a tone that dared her to argue with him.

"Fine," she hissed and grabbed the otter before he could scurry away. Holding him at eye level she threatened, "You piddle on my head and I'll toss your mermaid doll out the window. Got it fuzz butt?" She clenched her teeth and reminded herself she couldn't toss the creature over the ledge after it blew a big, wet raspberry into her face. "Just get the damn berries," she grumbled as she lifted the defiant creature up onto her back. She shuffled carefully to balance them as Puppy climbed onto her shoulders and felt the nylon sack rest on her head. A balancing game ensued as the otter reached forward to grab the closest berries while his human ladder tried to keep them from falling over.

Just when she thought her arms were going to fall off from holding the otter up she felt a warm hand cup the right side of her face. "Hold still, Ashley," Nick cautioned from her left. "You're up against a cluster of flowers." Looking out the far right corner of her eye she made out the blur of blue and tried to scoot back to her left. It was then that she realized she was caught up in a tangle of thorns. "I'm stuck," she groused. "Get the otter off me so I can pull free."

"He's stuck too," Nick replied with a sigh. "Let me get him free first and then help you." She felt him rubbing up against her as he first removed the basket from Puppy's mouth and placed it on the ladder and then carefully pried the otter's shirt free from the vine's many thorns. He'd just managed to free the creature when they heard a cracking sound. "What was that…?" Ashley began and screamed as the support below them collapsed.

"Ow!" she cried out as she landed on a hard surface and rolled uncontrollably downward until she hit the stone retaining wall. When the "wall" groaned underneath her Ashley realized she was sprawled on top of Nick, who gave another loud groan of pain. "For a skinny little thing you're awfully heavy," he mumbled and gave a loud "Ow!" as she backhanded him on the chest. "Nobody calls me fat," she threatened and sat up to glare down at him. Her expression softened at the sight of a small trickle of blood on his temple. "Oh my God, you're bleeding. Are you alright?" she asked worriedly and cupped his head with both hands to survey the damage.

"Yeah," he groaned, "but I'm sure I'll be feeling this later when all the bruises fully develop." She moved aside and helped him sit up against the retaining wall. "What happened? Why did the ladder collapse?"

"I guess we had too much weight at one end," he replied as he touched gingerly against his temple at the spot that was bleeding. He gave a little huff of laughter and held up at hand at her to deflect her frown. "And no, that's not a remark about your weight. That ladder was not made for three people." At his mention of three they both remembered the otter.

"Where's the hairball?" Ashley said and both swiveled their heads back to the location of their fall where they heard a low wailing sound.

"Puppy?" Nick called out and hurried back toward where the noise was coming from. Their baskets were overturned and the silver ladder lay in three broken parts in the foliage. Spotting the cinnamon colored mound of fur lying underneath some thick vines, Nick bent forward to grab the creature only to be yanked back at the last minute. "Mind the flowers!" Ashley cried and both briefly stood together to look at the dangerous blossoms surrounding the animal, who began to give a low keening wail of pain. "If you can hold up that jumble of thorny canes I'll crawl under and grab him," she offered and stepped back as he quickly set to work grabbing the canes with both gloved hands. Getting down on all four she carefully crawled deeper into the foliage and pulled the dazed otter to her. His wailing got louder and she jerked back as he snapped his fangs at her. "Hey, no biting, fur ball!" she snapped back and pulled him to her as she swiftly crawled backwards.

Releasing the canes, Nick dropped down beside them to inspect the animal. Puppy was still wailing and a little spittle was drooling out of both sides of his mouth. The young man's heart dropped as he saw tiny splatters of blood on the otter's little t-shirt. Locating a small section of thorn riddled cane embedded in the creature's right foot he went to pull it free only to have the otter snarl and bite him. "Don't bite!" he griped back and pinched the otter's snout closed with one gloved hand. "I'm trying to remove the cane!" The otter responded by trying to escape from his hold. Nick tightened his hold on the hurt animal and stood up. "Ashley, grab the pails!" he barked. "We need to get back to the medical wing. I think the ends of the thorns might be slightly barbed."

"Well, this just keeps getting better and better," she grumbled and scrambled to scoop the spilt berries back into the containers. Several had gotten smashed and she hoped there was enough left intact for her grandfather to make the antidote. She then hurried after Nick up the stairs to the upper terraces and back inside through the maze of hallways. This time they used a large elevator to ascend to the medical wing.

"You'll get the hang of the layout," the frazzled man commented in the elevator as they rode upward. She was staring openly at the touchpad on the wall and was not at all happy about the Latin numbers and odd symbols. "Think of this place as multi-floored townhouses with communal hallways scattered here and there to connect them all. The third and fourth floors from the top are the ones with the most connecting hallways. The lower levels are the storage, containment and work areas. The uppermost floors are the living quarters."

"That helps… a little," she thanked him with a tired smile. "Course, English and a map would be better."

"I'll take you on an orientation tour later," he promised. To the otter resting in his hold like a baby on its back, the man softly assured, "You'll be okay. Gregory will get that nasty cane out and don't forget, I promised you a juicy piece of salmon. Salmon sounds good, doesn't it?" Puppy gave a pitiful "meep" of enthusiasm and tried to reach for the cane digging into his foot which hung limping over the side of Nick's arms. "No," Nick reprimanded and pushed the creature's hands back against its chest. The elevator doors opened and off the trio rushed down the maze of halls and doorways to find the older doctor Magnus.

Gregory was relieved to see the pails of red berries but dismayed at the sight of the wounded animal. When it rains it pours the old man thought as he set about removing the cane. The boy was right, the tip of the thorns were barbed to retain hold on their prey. And when the otter heard the word "shot" in order to prevent infection it went glassy eyed and begin to earnestly pull free from their hold.

"Where's Druitt?" Ashley asked looking around. "I mean, dad."

"He's gathering clean clothing for them," her grandfather answered with a slight motion toward the group inside the glass wall next to the work table he and Nick were holding the otter down upon.

Hearing the wailing sounds of protest inside the glass enclosure, the trio moved closer to see what was going on. Amelia, whose breathing was almost back to normal thanks to her grandfather's quick administering of a shot that stopped the constricting of her airways, removed her breathing mask and climbed up onto the closest wooden bench to press her face and palms against the cool glass. Spying her playmate in trouble on the other side, she banged on the glass and cried, "Puppy!"

"It's alright, darling," her mother assured the upset child and draped an arm around her. "They're trying to remove the thorns from his foot. You know what a big baby he is when he's sick or hurt."

"But they're hurting him," Amelia complained and banged on the glass again. The otter heard her calling his name and pulled free to crawl on his belly two feet across the stainless steel counter to his playmate. He then began smacking against the glass with both front paws trying to get to her. The two men took the opportunity to remove the cane with Nick holding the creature down at its waist while Gregory worked swiftly with tweezers to pull the cane free. The numbing spray he'd applied beforehand eased some of the otter's pain and the child calling out to him on the other side of the glass kept it preoccupied. Tossing the cane into a nearby trash bin, Gregory cleaned out the small gashes, applied some ointment to quicken the healing process and expertly wrapped the back foot with beige gauze.

While all of this activity was taking place, Ashley rested nearby against the end of the counter and observed her surroundings. The otter and her little sister were obviously deeply bonded judging by their reactions to one another. Catching her mother's eye, Ashley gave a small smile. "You look like a giant blueberry," she remarked of her mother's many blue splotches.

"I've looked and felt better," Helen wryly said in a muffled tone over the treatment room's overhead intercom system which Gregory had apparently turned on.

"So have I," the girl agreed and shrugged out of her leather jacket. As she folded it over her arm she felt the Twinkie in her front pocket and perked up. If she ever needed a quick sugar fix this was it. She looked back at the otter as she was pulling it out of her pocket when it began squealing in alarm at the sight of Gregory holding a needle.

"This will only hurt for a second," the kindly doctor tried to reassure the animal. His attempt failed as otter began snapping at them and tried to buck loose from Nick's grip as it pressed itself against the glass. Amelia ignored her mother and continued to beat on the glass demanding they not hurt her Puppy. "Hold still and stop being such a baby," Nick panted and dodged the otter's latest attempt to bite him.

Without thinking, Ashley held up the plastic covered treated and crinkled the wrapping to catch the otter's attention. "Um, yummy, yummy," she taunted and smirked when the otter stopped its struggle to look at her. "You let them give you the shot and I'll share my treat with you," she offered. On the other side of the glass Helen heard her daughter's negotiation with the upset animal and smiled, touched that while Ashley loathed to share her favorite treat with anyone she was willing to do so to help the hurt animal.

The otter, who had stopped struggling, hissed at Gregory as he leaned down to administer the shot. Ashley crinkled the plastic again and began to unwrap it. "No shot no treat," she sang out. "And that would be too bad because Twinkies are heavenly. Ever had one?" she casually asked the otter as she moved closer. "Sweet, fluffy cake on the outside," she drawled as she waved the yellow treat close enough so that he could smell the sugar, "and ooey, gooey goodness on the inside. They're my favorite and I don't share them with anyone. However, I might be willing to give you a bite or two if you're brave enough to let grandpa give you the shot." Seeing his little chocolate-colored nose twitch excitedly at the sweet smell, she took a bite out of one end and closed her eyes and smacked her lips in exaggerated ecstasy. "So good. You haven't lived until you've eaten a sweet sponge cake filled with cream," she praised and opened her eyes to find the otter eagerly holding its front paws up at her. It obviously operated on the motivation of stomach first, brain later.

The good doctor took the opportunity to efficiently stab the animal with the needle. It drew back and hissed at him angrily. "Twinkie," Ashley called out again and tore off a small bit to reward the animal who eagerly accepted the cake into its front paws. Her begrudging appreciation for the creature went up a notch as it squeezed its eyes shut and appeared to smile as it held the treat up to its mouth and ate.

"Now that that's settled," Gregory flatly said with a roll of his eyes, "I'm going to work on the antidote." He scooped up the small pails of red berries with his left hand and, grabbing his walking stick with his right hand, clumped off into a side room for some peace and quiet while he worked. His offspring were an exhausting handful at times and this day was turning out to be a doozey.


	65. When It Rains It Pours Part 2

Chapter 65: When It Rains It Pours Part 2

"Interesting tactic," Nick commented as he released the otter and leaned back against the counter to look at the blonde. "I've never seen anyone this enthusiastic over a prepackaged, calorie filled, unhealthy snack before."

"You can keep your healthy spouts and twigs, I'll stick to my sponge cakes," she retorted and tore off another small piece for the otter before taking another bite herself.

A banging on the glass caught their attention. "I want some," the child whined with her pouty face pressed against the glass. "I was brave too when grandpa gave me a shot!"

The two women flanking her on the bench smiled at the child's boast. "You were brave," Helen praised and ran a hand lovingly over her baby's golden head.

On the other side of the glass, Ashley frowned. She had planned to eat the rest of the treat herself and it was the only one she had with her. However, could she really deny a sick child the rest of the cake? Particularly one that everyone in the room claimed was her little sister? She saw her mother look at her expectantly, the woman on the other side of Amelia peer at her curiously, and Nick stare back at her with a raised brow as if to say, "Well, what about it?" Biting her bottom lip, the blonde's shoulders slumped and she did what she knew was expected of her. Grabbing a hand towel from the counter, she covered her hand and placed the remaining half of the Twinkle in the center. She paused at the glass door realizing it wouldn't open and Nick was soon by her side. He ran his hand over the flat panel palm reader and punched in his code. "I'll add you to the security system as soon as we have the chance," he explained. The door swooshed open and slide sideways to retract into the wall and he lowered the otter to the ground where it scurried into the enclosure limping on its back leg. Puppy was happily greeted by his human sibling who in turn eagerly accepted the treat from her big sister's covered hand. "Thanks," she said with a dimpled grin and tore off a little bit to share with the otter who was tugging on the hem of her top.

"You're welcome," Ashley said in a tight voice. Being this close, actually talking to the child brought it all home for her. Ashley's next thought was that Amelia, with her blue spots and blonde hair, looked like Smurfette and she gave an involuntary giggle before clamping her mouth shut. The child, mouth full of the treat, giggled too and murmured "ummmm" in praise of the Twinkie. She'd never tasted one before and rather liked the sweet treat.

Helen stood up and happily absorbed her family's first full interaction with one another. The younger children were distracted from their illness by the novelty of the unusual treat. Amelia was sharing the last half of the treat with Puppy and both seemed momentarily content. Helen's oldest child was standing in the doorway obviously not quite sure how to feel about the whole situation but also not running from the room seeking to return to the Old City Sanctuary. That in itself was a victory. "Thank you," she said softly and was rewarded with a nod from an uncertain Ashley.

"You're hurt," a worried female voice suddenly called out and Lucy, forgetting her illness, stepped around the others to reach out for Nick's face. He wisely took a step back and held up a hand to stop her. "Sorry, I saw the cut on your face and forgot about my contagious condition," she apologized as she wrung her hands. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Mother Goose," he assured her. "Just a scratch." Lucy had loved the Mother Goose stories as a child and it was the nickname he called her whenever she fussed over him.

"More than just a scratch," she corrected him with a frown as she stared at his face which had a few small bruises blooming along his cheekbone.

"I'll live," he said with a wink. "You make quite a lovely blueberry, by the way."

"Oh, shut up," she laughed and ran a hand through her curly locks. "I'm more of a strawberry as you well know," she joked back, referring to the strawberry blonde hair she had inherited from their mother.

As the siblings teased one another Helen noted the look on Ashley's face as she looked between the Cutters. There was a resemblance in their faces if one looked for it but apparently Ashley hadn't and the little flash of jealousy her mother saw in her eldest daughter's eyes surprised her. It certainly surprised Ashley who blinked and turned to leave the enclosure. Too many emotions to deal with in that little space she thought as she set off in search of her grandfather without a word of parting to the others.

The Cutters halted their teasing to watch the willowy blonde exit the room. "I hope it wasn't something we said," Lucy murmured apologetically to Helen. The older woman shook her head. "I expect Ashley's a bit overwhelmed. Give her some time to adjust."

"If she's scared to sleep tonight she can have my Pooh bear," Amelia genially offered and held up her right hand. "I'm sticky."

Nick ducked out of the room and returned with a damp towel. "Here, kiddo," he said and made sure there was no skin contact as he handed her the towel.

"It's really cold in here," she complained as she wiped her hands and bent over to wipe the otter's outstretched front paws. Growing up alongside the child he often imitated her actions. "I want to leave."

"These should help," a deep voice called out in hailing as the tall form of John Druitt entered the room with a basketful of clothing and towels. The younger man left the glass enclosure to join the larger man outside. "I grabbed the nightclothes off the back of your closet door as instructed," John said to Lucy as he plopped the basket on the counter by the door and received a murmur of thanks.

"It would be nice to put something warmer on," Helen said and reached down to pull the discarded medical blanket over her daughter, who had settled onto a bench and was cuddling with the otter.

"Definitely," Lucy agreed, pulling hers tighter around her. "How long do you think it will take Gregory to make the antidote?"

"Soon, I hope," Nick replied. "We're running up against the clock in case you all have forgotten," he reminded the other three adults.

"How close?" Helen asked. In all the excitement with Ashley's arrival and the ensuing contamination she'd forgotten their day's tasks were not nearly completed.

"About three hours," Nick grimly answered with another look at his watch. "Even with John's teleporting we still need about two hours to complete the task." He looked back at the older woman. "And at the risk of sounding insensitive, I'm not sure you're up for the job, Helen."

"She's not," a gruff voice exclaimed behind them. Turning, the two men faced the older doctor as he entered the room followed by his granddaughter who was holding a metal canister in both hands. "While the antidote will take effect rapidly, they will experience cold-like symptoms for the next few hours as the poison clears their systems," he explained. "The only thing this lot will be up for is curling up with a blanket and sipping hot cocoa and tea."

"Then what are we going to do?" an alarmed Lucy said. "You have to go. Time's running out!"

"Running out for what?" a weary Ashley asked. Judging by the tight faces of the others something was seriously wrong.

"We have to run an important errand," John vaguely explained and exchanged glances with Helen through the glass wall that separated them.

"I want to go, daddy!" Amelia announced and smacked her hand onto the glass. "This is boring and I'm cold!"

Pressing his palm over the spot opposite of his daughter's on the glass, John gave the child a brief smile. "I'm afraid this trip isn't for you, my pet. You have to stay here and take care of your mummy, okay?"

Amelia screwed up her little spotted face and said, "Then who's going to take care of you?"

"That's a good question," Lucy interrupted. "If Helen has to stay here, who's going to serve as your guide? Neither of you know the real layout of the land."

"True," John agreed and an unhappy silence settled upon the group. "But there is one other who might," he slowly said as his gaze came to rest on his eldest child.

"Who? Me? What?" Ashley squeaked and looked around to make sure he was talking about her.

"No way," Helen cried out and vigorous shook her head at John. "Absolutely not."

"Well then we go in blind," he said with a sigh. "And I am willing to do that… but we're taking a dangerous risk here. We're short on time."

"We're going," Nick firmly declared. "Blind or not. You promised him and you're going to keep that promise," he defiantly pointed at the big man.

"I will keep my promise," a solemn John consented as he scratched absently at the side of his beard. His sprained left hand was aching again and he went to one of the metal cabinets, opened the door and rooted around for aspirin.

"Middle shelf, right side," Helen called out, knowing exactly what he was seeking. "Take two." She watched as he downed the pills with some water from the facet and worriedly looked over at her daughter. John was right. They'd be going in blind and it would be more dangerous without a guide. However, they'd only gotten Ashley back today. How could they risk letting her go back into the field where she could be discovered alive and well? If the Cabal got so much as a whiff of Ashley's scent they would come after the girl again. She was the only biological child of two source blood parents as far as the Cabal and the rest of the world were concerned.

"Obviously something is going on," the girl commented. "Someone want to fill me in?"

"Tell the child the truth," Gregory commanded with an absent wave of his hand as he began discretely filling three separate needles with the antidote from glass container kept stable within the cool confines of the stainless steel canister. "She's old enough to understand and she can decide whether she is willing to serve as your guide." He ignored the glare his daughter aimed his way.

"So I take it this day is basically going to get worse," Ashley surmised and crossed her arms defensively over her chest as she waited for an explanation. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Because it's been that kind of day," her father retorted and tossed his used paper cup into the bin as he turned to face her. "The truth is, Ashley… you aren't the only one we're trying to save. Nor were you the first one to expire in the bloody battle against the Cabal. That person is the one we have to rescue tonight."

"And that person would be…" she prompted with narrowed eyes. In her head visions of the people she loved and liked raced through. "Please, please don't let it be mom, the Big Guy or Henry... or Declan," she silently prayed.

"James Watson," an agitated Nick supplied, "and we need to leave… soon."

"Uncle James?" Ashley gasped in shock and touched the ring hanging around her neck. The ring her godfather had arranged to save her life. She'd forgotten about him. How could she forget about her own godfather she thought guiltily. "He's going to die?"

"If we don't get to him within the next three hours, yes," her father grimly confessed. He paused and looked back at his mate in the glass enclosure. Helen's face was tight and she shook her head at him again. If anything happened to their daughter after everything they went through to save her he knew Helen would never forgive him. Hell, he'd never forgive himself. Exhaling, he stretched his full length and made a decision. "Ashley, we'll be fine. You stay here and take care of your mother and sister. Nick and I will deal with the situation on our own."

Ashley caught the terse exchanges between her parents and Gregory. Her mother didn't want her going on the trip, and yet John and Nick obviously felt they needed her help to succeed in rescuing James. And Gregory's comment and her mother's reproachful glare at him told the girl that he also felt a knowledgeable guide might be required. "What do you need me to do?" she asked curiously.

"Nothing!" her mother interrupted and pointed at her. "You are not going. That's an order, young lady."

The rebellious spirit of the girl bristled. "As grandfather said, I'm old enough to make my own decision. I'm not a child anymore, mom."

"You are still _my _child," Helen cried emphatically, "and I've already lost you once. I will not go through that again. It's too risky." She could see Ashley's stubbornness driving her daughter's reaction to the idea of running to James' rescue and turned a pleading look onto the one person in the room that could prevent it. "Please," she begged, "please don't take her. After all we've gone through to find her again don't tempt fate. History could repeat itself. I couldn't bare it. Not again."

John's face fell at heartfelt pleading of his mate. He alone in this room knew the extent of her personal suffering following their firstborn's demise. He bent his head in a silent nod of agreement. "Can you talk us through the journey via cell phone?"

"No," Lucy piped up with vigorous shake of her head. "The security system will pick it up. James said no external communication while you were inside. They might be able to track us down here. Remember?"

"Okay," the big man sighed. "Helen will have to walk us through the process before we leave and Nick and I will take it from there." The younger man didn't look too happy about that and frankly neither was he. The mission was dangerous to begin with. Going in without Helen's aid made it doubly so.

"Except, wouldn't it slow you down considerably if there's only two of you?" the obstinate Lucy argued back. "Two to carry the box and one to stand guard and help you clear the grounds was the arrangement, no? Puppy's wonderful and all but even he cannot accomplish the role Helen was to play in this mission." She truly sympathized with Helen's plight but James's safety was in question and it was the only thing she cared about at the moment. She ignored the older woman's glower at her. "From everything I've heard about Ashley," she continued as she stared at the blonde, "she's both clever and resourceful. With her help you should be able to save James and return without being captured."

One corner of Ashley's mouth curved up in a smile at Lucy's description. She was clever and resourceful she arrogantly thought. The disapproving frown from her mother wiped the half smile from her face. "Tell me what you're planning," she insisted. "James Watson is my godfather and I have a right to know how you're going to save him. I care for him too, you know."

"I know you do," her mother answered and ran a hand through her red hair as she carefully chose her next words. "Darling, I'm not questioning your ability. I know what you're capable of. However, we maneuvered an incredible, daring rescue to get you here where we felt you would be safe. I am concerned that your leaving here so soon would endanger that."

Ashley's defensive wall fell away at her mother's heartfelt words. "Then what do we do? We have to rescue James."

"What we do," her grandfather stated as he held up one prepped needle in his gloved hand, "is get the situation in there," he indicated with a motion toward the glass enclosure, "resolved and have faith in our abilities to tackle whatever the other situation throws at us. There is no way to know all the variables that will come into play. We do what we have to do and what we can do." The last part he aimed directly at his daughter and she knew it.

The adults all jumped when Amelia let out a shriek. "No shot!" she exclaimed in alarm and scrambled underneath the wooden bench to hide. Her playmate, hearing the word "shot," climbed down after her, whimpering when he landed too hard on his injured back leg, and huddle next to her under the bench.

"Amelia," her exasperated mother called out and was cut off by the child's scream of "No! No shot!" Amelia's hand reached up, grabbed the medical blanket, and pulled it down to cover herself and the otter.

Shaking his head, Gregory picked up the three needles and carefully made his way over to the door. "Time is slipping away and you need to go," he said over his shoulder to the trio watching his progress. "I'll take good care of my family," he addressed Druitt, "if you do the same for yours." The two men who were generally at odds stared at one another and silently came to an agreement. Both wanted Watson saved and Ashley safe.

John glanced over at Helen, who was preoccupied with trying to coax their youngest from underneath the bench. The otter had started to wail lowly which was not helping the situation. Glancing over at Ashley, he softly said, "Follow me," and whirled around to leave the room before Helen could stop them. Ashley hesitated, looking back at her mother, and then, taking a deep breath, stiffened her spine and followed after her father. Nick was at her heels.

"No shot," a tearful Amelia wailed as her mother grabbed a hold of her and pulled her out and into her arms. The child buried her face into her mother's shoulder and began crying for real.

"It's going to be okay, baby," Helen tried to reassure her as she rubbed the child's back up and down soothingly. Her heart broke at the sounds of her baby's distress and she felt like crying herself.

"Now, my dear," Gregory said kindly to the child as he firmly took hold of her little arm, "the shot will make you feel better. This will be over soon enough and you'll be back playing in no time." He quickly and efficiently sunk the needle into his granddaughter's arm and inwardly cringed as she began bawling louder. Sometimes it sucked being a doctor he thought glumly. As he administered the shot to Lucy next he leaned into her ear and whispered, "Send the otter after Nick while I give Helen the shot. Don't let her see you do it."

Surprised, Lucy looked out of the enclosure to discover the others had gone and understood immediately what the older Magnus meant. She stepped over to the bench to grab the otter, who continued to wail lowly after hearing Amelia's crying. "Come with me," she whispered to him as she crushed him to her chest while wrapping a hand around his snout to prevent him from biting her. She knew what a pill he could be about injections or the threat of an injection." The door had been left retracted into the wall, on purpose by Gregory no doubt, and thus she was able to place the creature on the ground outside without making any noise. "Go find Nick," she instructed the otter. "He has a treat for you. Yummy, yummy," she encouraged him. Hearing the magic word of "treat" the otter stopped his whimpering and scampered out of the room as quickly as he could given limping on his back leg. Straightening back up, Lucy moved toward her colleagues and hoped that Helen wouldn't see the otter leaving.

Unfortunately the child did. "Puppy!" Amelia wailed and reached out one arm toward the glass. Helen's eyes followed the motion, registered that the otter was escaping, and noted the others were gone too. "Ashley," she gasped and whirled toward the door. Her father stepped in her way before she could reach it

"Get out of my way," she hissed in anger. She couldn't believe her own father would betray her like this.

"Calm down, Helen," he ordered and shifted to place one hand on the door frame. His cane was outside and he really needed a strong drink to help erase the annoyance of this day. His granddaughter was still clutched in her mother's arms and pouting at him.

"I don't want to calm down," she roared. "I want my daughter!"

"You have your daughter," he pointed out, put out with her unladylike flare of temper. "You need to take care of her and let the others deal with the problem of saving James."

"And who's going to take care of Ashley?" she accused, her eyes flashing back angrily at the pair that matched hers.

"Her father if he knows what's good for him," Gregory retorted bitterly. "He is more than aware what the consequences will be should any harm befall her. As am I." The two glared at one another pigheadedly and Lucy was unsure of what to do other than to keep her mouth shut and not interfere in this familial standoff.

The child once again the directed the nature of the conversation. "I need to go to the bathroom," she declared and kicked her little feet out.

"We need to wash you down first," her grandfather said and stepped out of the enclosure before she could argue with him. Two things his offspring seemed to excel in – being stubborn and arguing. He pushed the close button on the door and returned to the control panel as his granddaughter complained that she wanted to go potty now. Seconds later he heard squeals as the three females were bombarded by water from above. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed his walking stick and hurried into another room to retrieve soap.

As he approached the door and punched it open he bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing. Helen wore the same pissed expression on her face that she had as a little girl when she was forced to learn how to do needlepoint by her nanny. She was enduring the required bath to wash away the poisonous pollen but by George she was going to let him know how unhappy she was about it. Her mini-me responded by stamping her feet and sulking. "Grandpa!" she yelled. "I said I gotta go pee, not take a shower. I'm little, I don't take showers. I take baths."

"Oh," he answered, unable to stop chuckling as he reopened the door and dropped the bath gel onto the bench. "My mistake. Wash up quickly and you can go to the bathroom." He hit the close button again before the child could escape.

Grimacing, Helen picked up the soap, squeezed some into her hand and began washing down her complaining child as fast as she could before attending to herself. Beside her Lucy followed suit. By the time Gregory turned off the water all three were scrubbed down and washed clean. He unlocked the door, which slide aside with a squeaky swoosh, and dropped the basket of towels and clothing inside onto the closest bench. As he did, he pondered how many decades it had been since this chamber was last used in this manner.

"Let's dry you off and then you can run to the bathroom," Helen said to the grumpy child as she accepted a towel from her father.

"Too late," Amelia scowled as she crossed her arms and glared at her grandfather.

"Ah, well, these things happen," the unfazed old man said and turned to leave the room so that the women could have some privacy to change out of their wet clothing. He could feel his daughter's glare aimed at his person as he moved away. Pausing, he said, "And Helen…"

"What?" she growled back as she busied herself drying off her small daughter. All three occupants of the wet chamber were freezing with chattering teeth.

"I understand that you're angry with us about Ashley. But do keep one important fact in mind."

"Which is?" she demanded, not at all ready to be appeased about the betrayal.

"Ashley is a Magnus." With that he strode out of the room in search of a good cup of tea preferably laced with liquor. If ever he deserved a stiff drink it was today. His offspring were going to be the death of him someday.


	66. Retrieving Watson

Author's Note: If you're a big fan of the BBC's Sherlock Holmes series you'll probably recognize the otter reference. If not, there are a lot of fan drawings on the internet with the main character of Sherlock as an otter and the character of John as a hedgehog. Not sure why but it does seem to fit them.

Chapter 66: Retrieving Watson

"The London Sanctuary?" Ashley screeched in a high pitched voice. "That's where we're breaking into? Are you fucking kidding me?" They were standing before a large picture window looking out onto a gloomy English night. The fog was rolling in due to the heavy moisture in the air and the hazy glow from street lamps cast eerie shadows about. She rolled her eyes at her father's growl of "Language, young lady." "We're about to commit a B&E on the London Sanctuary, which on a good day is guarded like the Pentagon, and you're worried about me using the f-word?" she asked incredulously. This day was definitely moving from worse day ever to absolute nightmare.

"I don't like the use of that word in speech," he fussed back as he rubbed his knuckles nervously. "It's rude and unladylike. Do not use it around your little sister."

"Oh, well, I wouldn't want to corrupt your little princess," she snarked back and crossed her arms across her chest angrily.

"She's four years old," he groused back defensively. "Amelia does not need to learn that word."

"I hate to interrupt this moment of familial bonding," Nick cut in dryly, "but could we focus on the task at hand here? Which is breaking into Fort Crazyland there," he indicated at the fortress like structure across from them, "without getting seen or caught. And we have less than two hours to get in and out."

"No problem," she retorted and received skeptical looks from both men. "Hey, I've broken into many heavily guarded places. This one should be a piece of cake considering I know the lay of the land like the back of my hand."

"Breaking and entering is a normal activity for you, is it?" the younger man commented with a raised eyebrow. He was eyeing her with renewed interest and it made her squirm uncomfortably. Her hair was pinned back and up and a dark knitted cap was pulled down to cover her blonde locks and partly hide her attractive face. She couldn't determine if he was impressed or put off by her bravado and for some reason it bothered her to consider that he might think badly of her. Which was weird since she'd only just met the man.

"Not really. It's just sometimes the abnormals we're tracking are located in secured or difficult to reach areas and we have to get a little creative rescuing them."

"By creative rescue she means outright theft," her father shared and received a dark glare from her so reminiscent of her mother's that it caused him to briefly think about his beloved mate. Helen was going to kill him when they returned home. And that was if Ashley was returned safely. He had no doubt Helen would quarter and castrate him should any harm befall their oldest child.

"Not always," she denied hotly. "Most of the time the abnormal is roaming loose and we're capturing it to protect it and the general public."

A low whimper distracted them from their terse exchange and the trio turned to look behind them. The otter was lying on its back with its upper torso visible outside the leather messenger bag that had been placed upon the dusty old leather couch. The creature's eyes were closed and it was snoring lightly. One paw was draped across its snout. It gave another low whimper and twitched in its sleep. "Okay, I gotta ask," Ashley said as she eyed the hairball dubiously, "why exactly do we need an otter on a B&E job? What's he going to do? Drive the getaway car?"

"Don't be ridiculous. His legs are far too short to reach the pedals and his steering is erratic at best," Nick answered smartly and received a glare in response. "He's not a normal otter," he said as if that answered her question.

"Yeah, I figured that out by his wearing a t-shirt and his searching through my underpants," she retorted. "Tell me something I don't know." At her mention of the thong incident her father shot her a pained look that reminded her they had agreed never to speak of that incident again. "Sorry," she muttered and looked away as her cheeks flushed pink.

Noticing the awkward moment between the two and Ashley's flush Nick briefly wondered what was involved in the underpants incident but decided it was best not to ask. Instead, he shared, "Puppy's rather a clever little fellow and trainable if one has the patience for it. Besides knowing the colors, alphabet and 1-2-3s, James might have taught him a few additional things."

"He knows the alphabet and 1-2-3s?" she repeated in surprise. "You're kidding."

"He watched Sesame Street with your sister," her father commented as if it was not big deal and eyed the snoozing animal. "I hope that shot Gregory administered for Puppy's foot hasn't knocked him unconscious. We need him to open the casket."

Nick shook his head. "I suspect it's due to a sugar overload following that Kit Kat bar. We need to monitor his junk food intake better. This keeps up and none of his t-shirts are going to fit anymore."

"Hang on," the blonde interrupted, "Casket? What casket does he need to open?"

"James's casket," her father automatically replied and could have kicked himself as he saw the fiery look in his daughter's eyes as she backed away from him.

"You said we were going to save James," she snarled and pointed accusingly at him. "Why would we need to open a casket if he were still alive?" Her eyes quickly roved around the room as she looked for the best exit and her right hand balled into a fist in preparation for a fight. Maybe this was a trap. Maybe everything her mother had told her about John being cured was a lie and the madman was trying to use her to break into the London Sanctuary for more nefarious reasons.

Seeing the panic in her eyes John held up both his hands palm outward and calmly tried to explain the situation. "James is alive. He's in a state of suspended stasis which he and your mother arranged in order to make it appear to the rest of the world as if he had died. In the original timeline Watson dies at Bhalassam when the machinery that keeps his body alive finally gives out. " Slowly, John lowered his hands to his side and continued his story. "Because we know when and how he dies your mother was able to figure out a way to make it appear as if he died in a similar fashion, thus keeping the original timeline mostly intact, while at the same time arranging a way for us to retrieve him and bring him back to life at Avalon. We need to get into the mausoleum, remove Watson's body along with the specially designed interior coffin that circulates oxygen around his body, and return home without anyone discovering us. A task that is complicated by the fact that the Sanctuary Network is on red alert due to the ongoing battle with the Cabal over their recent poisonings of abnormals and your kidnapping." He exhaled a deep sigh and scratched at his beard worriedly. "Helen was right. You shouldn't be here. I should have left you where you were safe." He turned to look at Nick and the younger man's face tightened as he knew what Druitt was going to say next.

Ashley knew what he was going to say as well. "I'm where I want to be," the girl declared and placed her hands on her hips defensively. "James is my godfather and if I can save him I will. Try to take me back against my will and you'll regret it," she threatened.

One corner of the big man's mouth turned up. His daughter had spunk he proudly thought not for the first time. And she could be a royal pain in the backside like her mother. He had no doubt she'd fight him should he try to return her to Avalon. "Alright. We'll proceed with the plan. However," he warned as he drew himself up straighter to tower over his stubborn daughter, "you'll do as you're told. Do not take any unnecessary risks. This is to be a quick enter and exit process. If anything goes wrong… if we're detected or worse caught, you are to leave us behind and get yourself back here immediately. The tracking device is still working on the ring around your neck." He pulled out a cell phone from the pocket of his waist length black leather jacket and handed it to her. "Call your mother and she'll arrange for your safe return. The password is 4-4-5-1."

Accepting the mobile, she immediate tested the password to confirm it worked. "Are you expecting things to go wrong?" she inquired as she observed how on edge the two men were.

"No," John slowly answered as he returned his gaze back out the window. "But then I was expecting your mother by my side for this adventure. The day has been a long and stressful one." Briefly his mind recalled the scene of Helen, holding an unconscious Ashley tightly against her, reaching for him to teleport them out of the Cabal facility while gun fire, water and chaos surrounded them. They'd barely made it out by the skin of their teeth with minor injuries. He prayed this venture would go better.

"So we're off then," an impatient Nick prompted. They were running out of time and the longer they waited the more agitated he felt. Druitt had his daughter back and now it was time for them to retrieve the man Nick thought of as a second father.

"Wake up the otter," John instructed as he zipped up his jacket and pulled out leather gloves from his other pocket. "It's time."

Sometime later the trio came to a halt outside the 8 foot tall brick wall that ran the perimeter of the London Sanctuary grounds. Decorative wrought iron detail ran along the top of the wall and served as a pretty but effective extension of the wall. Hidden in a dark spot beside the fortification Ashley studied the top of the wall trying to judge the best way to scale over it. Trees on the other side would make the climb down easier. Her lithe, agile figure could easily get over the wall. She suspected Nick's strong figure could as well but she wasn't so sure that was the case with Druitt. His large form could easily get ensnared upon the pointed spikes of the wrought iron and his bandaged left hand was obviously sprained. His teleporting into the sanctuary grounds was prevented by its active EM shield. She was about to suggest going first up the wall when her father, after glancing around again to make sure no one was about, stepped up to one of the brick columns on the wall to his right and ran his palm flat against its surface. Feeling the slightly different texture of one of the bricks he pushed on it. A faint clicking sound was heard and then the brick slid aside to reveal a keypad.

Seeing her surprised expression Nick said, "James has had several years to plan this rescue. He knew we couldn't teleport in so he had a back door installed." He didn't share that he himself, disguised as a member of a local bricklayer company, was the one to put in that section of the wall when a repair of the brickwork was required. James had quietly rigged the wall to come down during a turbulent storm and had removed any evident of the small explosion before it could be discovered. His young protégé adjusted the strap of the messenger bag resting diagonally across his chest as he watched John punch in the password. Behind him, the otter poked his head out from the bag and blinked at the third member of their party. One of his little cinnamon ears with white fur trim was flopped over while the other stood upright and his little nose twitched as he sniffed at the air.

A small section of the wall the size of a door swung inward and John moved aside to allow Nick to enter first. His arm shot out across the doorway as the girl started to follow. Ashley stiffened as her father leaned down. "Remember what I said," he reminded her. "Any sign of trouble and you get out of here as quick as you can. Don't worry about us. Don't look back. Just get back to the loft and call your mother for help." He waited until she nodded her agreement and ushered her through the entrance. On the other side, once the door swung back into its original place, he took hold of her hand and pressed it against the brick that would allow access to the keypad. "Memorize the doorway's location. It's by the silver birch. The trigger brick has a different texture. The password for this doorway is your birthday." Briefly he squeezed her hand before letting go. "It's important you stay safe, Ashley."

"You mean because mom will kill you if anything happens to me?" she suggested at his display of concern for her well being.

"There is that," he admitted with a shrug. "I went through a lot of effort to extract you from the Cabal's grasp, Ashley. I need you to keep your wits about you so that we can complete this task safely and without detection."

"Are you saying I'm reckless and unable to take care of myself?" she asked with a scowl.

"I'm saying there are a lot of people searching for you," he carefully replied, "and if they find you history could repeat itself. Your mother and I could lose you again. Take caution and protect yourself, my girl."

"Understood," she acknowledged and turned to make her way to the mausoleum where her godfather currently resided. Nick waited for them by a tombstone and was impatiently tapping his booted heel against the grass. "And I'm not your girl," she tossed over her shoulder sassily as she walked away.

A small smile briefly hovered on the big man's lips as he followed in her wake. She was more like him than she knew. Quietly, carefully the group made their way with Ashley in the lead. Not only did she know where the Watson mausoleum was located she also knew where the security cameras were located. Not that there were many in this far west corner of the property. They kept to the shadows and the night's fog helped cloak them during those few times they had to cross uncovered areas.

Nick gave an audible sigh of relief when they reached the structure. His stomach had been tightly knotted up from the moment they crossed the street to enter the grounds and he was wishing he'd brought some Rolaids with him to squash the queasiness he was feeling. Behind him he heard the otter give a series of squeaks in protest and shift around in the bag. "Quiet," he hushed the creature who hissed back at him fussily.

"Hang on," John muttered and reached into the bag to lift the animal out.

"Is his back leg hurting?" Ashley asked worriedly, thinking that perhaps Gregory's shot was wearing off and the animal was feeling the pain again.

At the otter's rushing into the nearest bush John sighed and shook his head. "Apparently he needed a bathroom stop." There was shuffling in the bush and sections of leaves rustled with the movement.

Nick blew out an exasperated breath and pulled the messenger bag around to his front to extract a lock picking kit. He unrolled the worn leather case to reveal a variety of different tools. "I need some light," he requested and handed Ashley his flashlight. She aimed the torch onto the building's heavy door and glanced sideways at the toolkit as her companion eyed the lock to determine which tool to use. "Is that James' kit?" she asked, recognizing the camel leather case.

"It is," Nick confirmed and chose one of the tools to begin picking the lock.

"And you know how to pick a lock?" she asked doubtfully as he wiggled the tool in the lock, extracted it to insert another and then return to using the first tool.

"You could say I know a thing or two about locks," he vaguely shrugged and then half smiled as he heard the faint click of the lock releasing.

John's flashlight swept the bushes again. "Puppy," he growled softly. "Come back here. You have a job to do." He moved closer to the one he thought the otter was inside and called the creature's name again. A moment later the otter limped out from the bush and was unceremoniously picked up by his human father. "We'll get James, you stand on guard out here," he commanded Ashley. "Keep out of sight in case a guard sweeps by."

The two men entered the building and she was tempted to ignore her father's instructions in curiosity over the otter's role in the heist. Instead, she fell back into the shadows opposite the building's front entrance and kept watch over her companions. Her eyes were drawn to the large structures in the far distance and she recalled with affection all the hours she'd played in the main building as a child. Her mother had brought her here several times growing up and it was on these grounds that her godfather James had looked on proudly as her mother taught her how to ride a horse. He'd also taught her how to use a bow and arrow on these grounds. And it was here years later, as a young woman, that Ashley came to realize that her mother and godfather had once been romantically involved. She'd inadvertently stumbled across an old photograph of them in a photo album in James' sitting room one day while looking for a report he'd asked her to retrieve. The thin album had been knocked off a shelf in her rush to leave the room and as she knelt down to pick it up she discovered the photo of the James with his arms wrapped around her mother. Their close proximity to one another and the way he was smiling at Helen as she smiled at the camera was too intimate for mere friends. Her mother's lighter colored hair and short bob cut stood out as well. Flipping the photo over she noted 1948 was scrawled in her godfather's familiar handwriting. Now leaning back against a large statue of an angel, Ashley bit her bottom lip and wondered for the first time if Druitt knew about their past romantic entanglement. It could make for a very uncomfortable situation if he found out while they were all living together in Avalon. It wasn't much of a stretch of imagination to see Druitt as a possessive man.

As Ashley pondered the implications of the upcoming living arrangements her cohorts made their way through the structure to James' tomb which was located in the back of the long rectangular structure. Three generations of Watsons resided in this place, including James's older brother, Mycroft. The extravagance of the structure with its elaborate niches, cherubic leering angels and highly carved coffins bespoke of the Watson family's social status. They had been quite wealth and carried themselves accordingly. James had been the odd duck of the clan. Outwardly he wore his class status well and with dignity. In the company of The Five he revealed a more adventurous, sly side that was willing to go to great lengths to accomplish their goals. He was as ambitious as Mycroft but for different reasons. Whereas older brother Watson went into the respectable position of high government for her Majesty's service, younger brother Watson publicly held the lower passable position of private detective while secretly establishing a powerful underground empire that dealt with the strange and weird. And now the two lie slumbering side by side entombed within similar stone graves. Of course James's was the larger and more ornate. Even in death he was competing with his big, brilliant brother.

"It's a bit over the top," Nick commented with a raised brow. On the top was the carved form of a man in period clothing with his hands resting on his chest and eyes closed as if he were peacefully slumbering. It was a depiction of James as he looked in his 30s. Below, the four sides of his stone grave were illustrated with numerous carvings that both men recognized as scenes from the life of the fictional character of Sherlock Holmes.

"Good Lord," John said with a roll of his eyes. "The man's ego knows no bounds."

Nick didn't say anything. His mind was focused on the task of locating the trigger panel. Focusing his torch on the foot of the tomb he swept its light over the richly carved surface looking for a particular detail. Not there. He moved to the left and ran his torch over that side. He'd already reach the head of the tomb when John softly announced he'd found it on the side he was observing. The young man came around the corner just as the big man was reaching out to touch the carved otter tucked along the bottom frieze. It was a peculiar detail if one were to actually pay attention to what was carved on the tomb. John pushed on the head of the stone otter and a distant clicking noise was heard as a small section of the tomb receded. The two men peered into the hole then stared down at the otter standing between them.

"Is he going to fit?" Nick voiced what the other man was thinking.

John frowned. "I hope so. He's the only one who can release the chamber lock."

"Well, no time like the present," Nick charged on and bent down to address the creature who was peering uncertainly into the hole. "Puppy, you need to go inside and unlock the panel. Just follow the hole and you'll find a glass panel. Put your paw on it and you'll get a treat." Whiskers twitching, the otter looked up at him with a worried expression that clearly said he wasn't happy about the task. "It's a shallow hole. You don't have to go far. And you'll get a good treat, I promise."

When the otter continued to stare at the boy and the hole alternately John grabbed him by the back of his little shirt. "Get in the hole," he ordered in an authoritative tone. "We don't have much time. All you have to do is touch the panel and then come back out." He pushed the creature in front of the hole and was about to cram it inside despite its squeals of protest when Nick reached out and cupped the animal's face. "Puppy, find the treat. James left you a present in the hole. Just touch the panel, okay?"

The skittish otter relented and began to scramble into the hole only to get stuck partway in. It gave a forlorn wail as its wounded leg scraped against the stone. "That's it," John growled as he placed his large hand against the otter's behind and pushed hard, shoving the animal through the hole. "He's going on a diet when we get home. No more Kit Kats and Twinkies."

Nick aimed his flashlight into the hole and both men pressed their faces close to the opening to watch as the otter crawled into the tight space toward the center support post holding up the casket itself. Once there, it held up its right paw and scratched at the cool glass surface. "Keep your paw on the glass," Nick instructed. "Just for a minute." The otter did as it was told and the glass lit up as a scanner ran over the surface and read the creature's paw print. Another clicking sound was heard and something dropped down onto the ground next to the otter's left paw. Excited, the creature squeaked and bent down to sniff it.

"Let's hope it's not more candy," John grumbled. "Otherwise he'll never fit back through." There was no need to worry about that for the panel at the foot of the tomb slide back on both sides to reveal the interior of the tomb. The two men hurried around and collectively sighed in relief at the sight of the silver casket residing inside the stone tomb. To the naked eye it looked like an expensive casket. In actuality it was a casket within a casket. The interior one was controlled by a special computer to maintain a cool temperature and circulate oxygen around the body. The otter's paw print had been programmed into computer as the trigger for releasing the interior casket and the victorious animal crawled out underneath with something dangling from its mouth.

"Good boy," Nick praised and gave the otter a warm pat on its cinnamon colored head. Puppy dropped the small plastic baggie at the man's foot and squeaked up at him demandingly. Picking up the bag, he opened its seal and was rewarded with a strong whiff of fishy smell. Grimacing, he handed the open bag of dried fish jerky to the otter and ushered him aside so that he and John could pull the interior casket free.

The cool damp of the fog and the hushed atmosphere was starting to get to Ashley. She wrapped the charcoal scarf closer around her neck and lower face and shuffled her feet to break up the monotonousness. The damp seemed to seep down into her bones and aggravate the bumps and bruises she had sustained earlier. She blew out a loud relieved breath as the otter appeared on the top steps of the mausoleum and sat on its haunches with its face turned downward. She moved closer and saw that it was eating something stringy like spaghetti noodles. She was about to call a greeting to Puppy when the otter's head shoot upward, it stiffened visibly and looked sharply to its right with eyes wide in alarm. Neither had noticed the figure moving quietly around the corner of the mausoleum until it was right upon them.


	67. No Clean Getaway

Chapter 67: No Clean Getaway

A swirl of warm breath curled up from his lips to float above and sweep back into his raw face, tickling his nose though he ignored it and plodded on. The last 48 hours had been a nightmare. The entire Sanctuary Network was on red alert following the kidnapping of Ashley Magnus and her anguished mother was on the warpath for the Cabal's blood. He himself was anguished for he'd lost the man he considered a surrogate father. In what would be a whirlwind of confusion and grief, the body of James Watson was unexpectedly delivered by an agitated John Druitt who lingered only long enough to make sure Watson was handed over to his protégé and express his sympathy before he disappeared back to Helen Magnus's side to begin the search for their only child.

Declan had been shocked to find a video message from James awaiting him in his inbox within an hour of the body's delivery. The old man knew he would not be returning alive from his expedition apparently and had made all the arrangements beforehand. Including the preparation of a special casket which he joked in his video message was equipped with oxygen and air conditioning for 24 hours just in case he decided death was far too dull that he had to return to the land of the living. He was also adamant that his body, upon its return to London, be immediately placed into the casket awaiting him in his family mausoleum and that no formal burial ceremony be held. The timing of the video was eerily accurate, almost as if Watson knew when his time was up.

"Remember me as the energetic, quick witted man you knew me to be," he pleaded, "and not as the aged, tired old man I've become. Don't mourn my passing but think fondly of the time we've had together. " Somberly, Watson went on to tell Declan how proud he was to have him as his second in command and that he would be a great leader for the London Sanctuary. "I know my time has been coming for some time now, my boy, and I have prepared you well. Remember what I've taught you. And if you can, watch over Helen for me. She'll need all the help she can get. Dark times are coming for the Sanctuary Network. Stay on your toes and keep safe."

He did as James requested. He always did whenever possible. Watson's body was transferred reverently to the casket without too much fanfare. Mass mourning would have to wait. Declan had but a short time to press his hand over those of his mentor and say goodbye before the casket was closed and the stone cover pushed into place. Promoted to head of household immediately he had to push aside his personal pain and lead his colleagues in securing the grounds and their people. Everyone was on edge and he did the best he could to reassure them everything would work out.

Much later, when he was finally alone, Declan was able to rewatch the recording several times simply to hear his friend's voice. And now, after several beers, he solemnly made his way alone to the mausoleum to chat with his old friend. It would be a one sided conversation but he felt the need to be near James. Being that it was after midnight he would be assured of some privacy in the mausoleum. The fog seemed to amplify the light of the antique lamp posts making it easier than normal to see as he walked alone towards the far corner of the Sanctuary's grounds inhabited only by the dearly departed.

Rounding the corner of the structure he exhaled loudly and was about to approach the three step entrance when the sight of something pear shaped caused him to halt in his tracks. He frowned and blinked. Perhaps his fuzzy mind was playing tricks on him. The fog was getting thicker, the temperature was dropping, and for a long moment he wasn't sure if the lump on the steps was real or not. The two stared at one another waiting for the other to make a move. Either it was the largest squirrel on the planet or it was the fattest mongoose he'd ever seen. Declan narrowed his eyes to focus his thoughts as the beginnings of a headache pricked at the back of his head and he tried to determine what the animal was. Its ears were a bit long for a squirrel and what the heck would a mongoose be doing loose in the outskirts of London? He took a caution step forward and then another while keeping one hand on the weapon holstered at his hip. If he didn't know better he'd swear it had the shape of a sea otter… a fat, furry, big eared, small sea otter. "What have we here?" he whispered, sending up a cloud of cold breath around him.

At the sound of his words, the creature seemed to slowly shrink back onto itself and inch its way toward the wall with a bit of a limp. It dropped something as it tried to hide in the shadows and the item rolled down to the first step. "I'm not going to hurt you, little fellow," Declan said softly. "I only want to know what you are." He carefully knelt, keeping his eyes on the creature which was half hidden in the shadows, and picked up the item. To his surprise it turned out to be a small plastic bag with what looked like dried jerky inside. His mind registered that the creature was wearing a little t-shirt and involuntarily the corner of his mouth turned up in amusement. "Interesting," he muttered to himself and slowly rose back to his feet.

Puppy gave a high pitched squeal of alarm as the tall man moved closer to him and turned to look at the door inside which his human family stood. Declan's gaze followed the creature's and it was then that he finally noticed that the door to the Watson mausoleum was cracked open and he could see a faint light inside. Anger surged up inside at the thought that someone had invaded James's resting place.

He was in the process of withdrawing his weapon when he was suddenly tackled and knocked backward. He hit the side wall with a loud grunt, his head smacking back against the stone structure, and felt his weapon pulled free from his grasp. While his head exploded with pain, a smaller body pinned him against the wall. "Who are you?" he rasped as one hand went up to press against his throbbing head.

At the response of "Someone who adores you" his eyes went wide and his body rigid. He recognized that voice. "Ashley?" he gasped.

"Puppy's harmless," she said, enjoying the closeness of their two bodies. She'd had a crush on Declan Macrae since she was a young girl, not that he had notice. To him she was and would always be nothing more than the daughter of the formidable Helen Magnus. That fact alone kept most men at bay. "And he's going to sulk if he doesn't get his treat bag back."

"Ashley?" he repeated in disbelief. She'd been missing for almost two days and Helen was convinced the Cabal had her daughter following a taunting video conference with the shady organization's leader. "Where the hell have you been? Everyone's looking for you!" he demanded and her nose scrunched up from the heavy smell of beer on his breath.

"Including you?" she whispered. Their faces were almost touching, though she did have to tilt hers upward to meet his beautiful eyes. "Did you miss me?" Before he could answer, she impetuously stretched upward and pressed her lips against his. They'd only kissed once before and that had been a quick peck on the lips because they found themselves under some mistletoe during the Christmas ball James had thrown when she was 17. The kiss had meant nothing to him she knew but it was a cherished memory for her. It was the first time she'd kissed a boy on the lips.

The confused man opened his mouth to ask her what was going on and ended up causing the impromptu kiss to deepen. First his mind registered that Ashley Magnus was good at kissing. She certainly was not that teenager he'd kissed briefly under the mistletoe. Next he registered sharp pain as a bolt of fire raced through his body. He slumped forward into the arms of his attacker. "I'm so sorry," she whispered apologetically in his ear for stunning him with his own weapon.

Ashley closed her eyes and exhaled a harsh breath as she held the unconscious man against her. Under any other circumstances she'd be thrilled to have him resting in her arms. Taking deep breath she inhaled his clean scent and her heart skipped a beat. She still had a crush on him it seemed. A pity since she knew nothing would ever come of it. When she started to buckle under his weight, she carefully lowered them down to the ground and rested his body against the wall, straightening his tangled legs to a more comfortable position. Slipping his weapon back into the holster she saw the plastic bag nearby and picked it up to return it to the otter. Standing upright, she turned, holding the bag out and froze at the sight of a full audience.

John Druitt was standing at the top stairs staring at his daughter with his mouth dropped open in shock. Beside him, Nick stood looking equally shocked. Ashley's eyes locked with his and she realized that he was pissed. Below, the skittish otter peeked out between the legs of the two men. She blinked nervously and straightened up to cover her embarrassment at their witnessing her moment of weakness. Approaching the stairs she shook the baggie to capture the otter's attention as a diversion from the awkwardness of the moment. It worked. Puppy squeed excitedly and waddled forward as she bent to present him with his treat. "You're welcome," she said as the otter squeezed its eyes shut and gave her a grateful meep sound.

"What was that?" Nick demanded with a glare.

"Damage control," she answered with as much of a nonchalant shrug as she could muster.

Regaining his voice, John growled, "I told you to stay out of sight. What part of let no one see you did you not understand, girl?" He shook his head to clear away the sight of his daughter kissing Declan before shooting him. Maybe she was more like her mother than he had realized. That was a scary thought.

"I couldn't let him grab hold of Puppy," she explained and gave the fur ball a pat on its head.

"You let him see you!" her father bellowed.

"Don't worry about it," she dismissed his complaint with a wave of her hand. "He had so much beer on his breath he'll probably think he dreamed the whole thing when he wakes up in the morning." She looked back at her victim worriedly. "We should move him into the mausoleum. It feels like it's going to rain."

"Seriously?" Nick snorted and looked from the fallen man back to her.

"Yes, seriously," she huffed back. "Declan is a close family friend. He's James' protégé. We're not going to let him freeze to death in the rain." She waved her hands in Declan's direction. "Well. What are you waiting for?"

Crossing his arms, Nick shot back, "You want to move him, be my guest. I have other things to do."

Mimicking his posture, the annoyed blonde retorted, "I can't move him very far. He's too heavy."

"Guess he's out of luck then," Nick said and stomped back into the building.

"Jerk!" she called out after him and turned to stare expectantly at the remaining man.

Rolling his eyes at his bossy offspring… she really did take after her mother… John retrieved the fallen man and tossed him over his shoulder. "We need to go. Time's running out," he declared as he passed by her. "Keep watch for any other uninvited guests. And for God's sakes don't let them see you!"

Ashley rolled her eyes at the retreating back of her bossy father. "Whatever," she muttered under her breath.

Five minutes later, after the two men exited the building carrying a slim, black casket between them, she surprised them again by rushing past them saying, "Just a minute. I want a look."

"Ashley," John growled and looked over his shoulder as best he could without dropping his end of the casket.

At the front of the casket the younger man stared forward and shuffled his feet impatiently. "Your daughter is a royal pain in the backside," Nick grumbled, not caring if the bigger man was insulted or not.

"She takes after her mother," John sighed. It occurred to him that soon he was going to be henpecked by three Magnus females rather than just two. And he wasn't entirely sure which one of them was going to be the bossiest.

Inside the mausoleum, Ashley hustled to Declan's side and dropped clumsily to her knees. She grimaced as she felt the bruises on her legs and quickly set about her task. Pulling the phone from Declan's pocket, she programmed the alarm to wake him up in 45 minutes. She felt terrible about stunning him and was worried he would freeze out here if he was unconscious too long. Tucking the phone back into his pocket she briefly cupped the side of his face, memorizing as much as she could, and then rushed back out to join her colleagues.

"What were you doing in there?" her father asked suspiciously as she hurried past to take the lead to guide them back to the secret entrance.

"Just wanted to see James's tomb," she lied.

"Can we go now, your highness?" Nick snarked as she passed him.

Her response was to flip him a bird over her shoulder. "Oh, nice," Nick frowned. Behind him he heard Druitt softly chuckle. They were halfway back when the otter began to wiggle in the messenger bag draped across Nick's stomach. Puppy's head poked out of the bag's flap and fussed at him. "You're going to have to hold it until we get back across the street. Serves you right for overeating you pig." The otter gave a low whine and bumped against the bag. "Stop it," Nick hissed out the side of his mouth when the otter bumped him again. "We're almost there. You need to keep quiet." He sighed as the annoyed otter blew a raspberry up at him and growled lowly in his throat. You are definitely going on a diet when we get home he silently promised the creature.

John blew out a relieved breath as he reached the other side of the secret entrance and was once more free of any EM shield. He hated that looming over him. He took another deep breath of the cool air and felt the knots in his shoulders begin to loosen up. They'd successfully rescued James and once they were home again his old friend could be revived from his unearthly sleep. John just prayed that Ashley was right about Declan waking up thinking he'd been drunk when he ran into Ashley. Helen was going to have a fit when she heard about this part. Course, she was probably already fit to be tied and was waiting for him at home with a pistol.

Ashley turned to boastfully remind the two men that she had told them she could successfully commit a B&E on the London Sanctuary when a car rounded the curve. Its headlights bounced upon their persons and the driver, startled at the sight of three dark clothed figures with what looked like a casket, slammed on her breaks, sending the vehicle into a tailspin. The three watched in horror as the vehicle spun into the lamp post 20 feet across from them and they stood rooted in their spot for a few seconds.

"Move," John barked and the trio hoofed it across the street as fast as their shaky legs could carry them. What were the odds, John thought as he griped the casket's bar tighter, that a driver would happen by just as they were carrying the body away. All the preparation of knocking out the street lights on this stretch of road before they entered the Sanctuary down the drain. So much for a clean getaway. "Will this bloody day ever end?" the large man mumbled to himself.

Inside the car, the young driver called the police for help. Her car had been going under the speed limit when it struck the post and fortunately she was unharmed despite her car's front end being totaled. As she hysterically explained what happened to the officer on the other end of the line her eyes darted back to the spot where she'd seen the dark trio. She shuddered, made sure her doors were locked, and demanded that someone come for her immediately. There were crazy devil worshipers on the loose and she wasn't about to be their next victim she cried.

The three grave robbers took a few moments to catch their breath once back inside the third floor of the old industrial building. The bottom two floors were occupied by a local bakery and sandwich shop that closed down at 6 in the afternoon. The upper most floor was a private apartment that was secretly owned by Watson. Like Nick had told Ashley earlier, James had had a lot of time to plan his death and rescue. And he had real estate assets scattered everywhere, many of which were held under pseudonyms known to a rare few.

Nick had barely placed his end of the casket down across the couch when the desperate otter began knocking against him. "Alright, hold your horses," he grumbled as he reached for the spoiled hairball. The otter had barely touched the ground before he was wiggling and grunting up at his friend. Nick led the way down the hall of the loft with the otter waddling and grunting after him.

John collapsed into the arm chair and rested his head against the stiff back. This had to be the longest day ever he thought depressingly. Almost 48 hours had gone by since he last slept. The same held true for Helen and he wondered how she and their littlest offspring were doing.

Ashley eyed him speculatively. The big man looked exhausted and his bandaged left hand was cushioned against his stomach. "You look like the walking dead," she appraised. John opened his bleary eyes to find his eldest child watching him. "How old are you really?" she surprised him by asking.

"I am one hundred and sixty-six years old," he answered and gave a tired smile at her eyes widening at his response. "Your mother's a year older than me," he shared wickedly. He always loved tweaking Helen about the fact that she was older than him and never missed the opportunity to let others know that fun little tidbit.

"Really?" Ashley said. "Was that a big deal when you were seeing each other when you were younger?"

"Not really. The fact that she was almost 30 and considered over the hill because she was unmarried, now that was much more of a big deal. And then there was the fact that she was the only child of Doctor Gregory Magnus, an affluent member of society around whom vague dark whispers and gossip lingered."

"Then why did you pursue mom?"

His brows furrowed for a moment before he answered. "She was… is… beautiful, brilliant, and very persuasive. She wasn't a shy little mouse nor a giggling female who hid behind a fan. If one could get past her stubborn streak and off the wall ideas she was every Victorian man's dream." He refrained from adding one would also have to get past the fact that her father was a pompous twit with a dangerous hobby.

Any subsequent response was cut off by the sound of a toilet flushing and then the sound of a loud splash and squealing. A moment later a faucet was turned on which drowned out the squeals. Ashley arched a questioning eyebrow at her father, who lightly chuckled. "He's potty trained. Unfortunately, he occasionally slips into the loo while flushing. The good news is that his present size prevents him from being stuck into the hole anymore. That was an unpleasant surprise I can assure you." He unfolded his large frame and stood up. "I'm going to teleport Watson's body home. I'll be back for you and Nick shortly. Don't go near the windows or door."

Puppy waddled back into the main living space wearing a beige towel wrapped around him. His downturned dark whiskers suggested he was a very disgruntled animal. His human sidekick entered behind him carrying the otter's damp t-shirt in one hand. Nick didn't seem bothered that John and Watson's casket were gone.

"Problem?" Ashley asked, amused by the otter's sulking.

"No more than the usual," Nick replied as he crossed the room to sit down on the couch. He picked up the discarded messenger bag and motioned for the otter to get in. Puppy gave a loud raspberry sound in lieu of crawling in. At Ashley's grin, Nick repeated, "Like I said. The usual."

"Druitt will be back soon to pick us up," she shared though it was obvious her companion was aware of this fact.

"Hmm," Nick acknowledged. "I guess the real fun will then commence."

"And that would be?" she prompted.

"Living together without killing one another… and your mother not shooting anyone," he smirked.

"Story of my life," she agreed and flopped down on the other end of the couch. The two looked at one another and laughed. The otter, not to be left out, crawled up onto the couch between them and together they waited in amiable silence for their ride to pick them up.


	68. A New Beginning

Chapter 68: A New Beginning

They had barley stepped across the wide courtyard with the casket when the heavy double doors at the opposite end swung open and a figure appeared in the archway. The three tired grave robbers, grateful that the long night's adventure was concluding, continued toward the doorway with their precious cargo. Ashley, in the lead, saw the evident look of relief upon her mother's face as she strode towards her. She also saw the tight line of her mother's jaw and could practically feel the heat of anger that radiated off the older woman's person. "We're back," she announced in greeting as she tried to prepare herself for the chewing out she knew was heading her way. Her formidable mother did not take being disobeyed by anyone well.

What followed next was not the scenario the young blonde was expecting. When she got within reach, Helen pulled her first born into a big bear hug and sighed. "Thank God." Leaning back, she glared at her disobedient child. "Don't ever do that to me again!" she commanded in a stuffy voice.

"Okay," Ashley mumbled in confusion. Who was this touchy feely woman? Under normal circumstances her mother would have balled her out and confined her to the estate as punishment. She turned to look over her shoulder as her mother stared forward toward the others with a fierce expression on her face.

Both men knew immediately from Helen's face that she was severely put out with them. Nick, at the front of the casket, halted in front of the mother-daughter pair, who were standing in the center of the doorway, and waited for Helen's harsh words. Instead, she zeroed in on the older man's face with a death glare that would have caused a weaker man to wilt underneath its fury. As the man in question was used to being on the receiving end of her anger he merely stared back at her in silence. John did, however, have the good sense to look appropriately contrite. He would have found her blue speckled appearance amusing if she weren't so obviously in the mood to shoot him.

One arm wrapped possessively around her daughter, Helen stepped aside to allow the men to pass. "Put him in room 4," she said.

The otter, hearing his adopted mother's voice, popped his head out of the messenger bag and whined a greeting up at her. "Little suck up," Nick muttered under his breath. He stiffened as Helen moved closer and reached into the bag to retrieve the still damp animal. "Fell in the loo again," Nick offered as the otter tucked its head under her chin and sighed contentedly.

Nose wrinkling up at the less than pleasant smell of wet otter, Helen shifted the 9 pound animal in one arm and instructed, "I'll be down as soon as I get Ashley settled in." Not waiting for a reply, she pivoted to escort Ashley inside the doorway and to the left towards the elevator.

"It's okay, mom," Ashley said nervously. "I can find my own way." She clamped her mouth shut as her mother shot her a stern sideways look. They both knew Ashley could not yet navigate the maze of the underground city without getting lost.

"That went better than I expected," Nick commented as they made their way in the opposite direction down the long hallway towards a larger service elevator.

"It's not over yet," John solemnly counseled. He knew the good Doctor Magnus. Payback was yet to come. Especially for him.

Upstairs, Helen ushered Ashley off the elevator and down the hall. "I left my bag in the kitchen," Ashley said and turned around to retrieve it only to realize she didn't know where the kitchen was.

"The kitchen is one floor down," her mother answered as she kept walking forward, "and your bag is waiting for you in your room. It's been a very long day. Well, day and a half now. You must be exhausted." Peering over his mother's shoulder, the otter made a series of squeaks at the younger woman that sounded as if he were making a derogatory comment about her rumpled appearance.

"Am not," she griped and narrowed her eyes at the animal. The otter responded by sticking its tongue out at her.

"Brat," she huffed and almost ran into her mother when the older woman halted and raised a questioning eyebrow at her. "Not you," Ashley quickly explained. "I was talking to the otter. He stuck his tongue out at me."

"He's probably thirsty," Helen said with concern and stroked the soft fur of the creature's cinnamon colored head. It squeezed its eyes shut and gave her a happy little meep.

"Brown noser," Ashley muttered under her breath. They arrived at the room that Ashley would call home for the next four years and the two women stood uneasily in the doorway. The room was smaller than the one Ashley had at the Sanctuary. Helen had done the best she could to decorate it in such a fashion as to be comfortable for her daughter. Despite having grown accustomed to her new home Helen herself still experienced pangs of homesickness for her old estate and those who inhabited it. As would Ashley.

"It's a little small," she apologized gently. "But you'll be safe here and with me." She reached up and cupped her beloved child's cheek. "I know this is going to be hard on you, but I promise you we'll return home in four year's time. You'll see Henry and the others again. We just need to wait until the time is right to rejoin the timeline."

Throat constricting, Ashley blinked hard to prevent the tears that threatened from falling and nodded in response. Four years. How in the world was she going to be able to stay here for four years without going nuts? And with no Henry or Biggie.

Helen recognized the turmoil within her daughter and felt her throat tighten as she recalled how painful it had been for herself to start anew in old London when she'd been trapped back in time. She'd still be there if it hadn't been for John's salvaging of Worth's notebook and the madman's continuum device. Not that she was in a mood to be grateful to that idiot right now. He'd placed their daughter in harm's path after lying that he wouldn't take her to the London Sanctuary. He was going to pay for that ugly transgression. A loud snore broke the long silence and both women looked down at the otter sprawled on its back like a baby in Helen's left arm with its bandaged foot hanging limply down. "Poor baby," Helen said warmly. "The trip wore him out."

"More like he's in a food coma," Ashley suggested, garnering a chuckle from her mother.

"He does love his food," she agreed and rubbed the otter's chubby little stomach, above which was visible a jagged scar on its upper chest. Sighing, she added, "I better put him to bed." Looking back at Ashley, she continued, "The bathroom is next door. I'll be down in the medical wing reviving your godfather. If you're hungry the kitchen is just below. Please restrict your wandering to this floor and the kitchen for tonight. I don't want you wandering around and getting lost." She motioned back towards the other end of the hallway. "The west wing houses more bedrooms, including mine. As the guest bedrooms are smaller there I put you in the east wing. I hope that's okay."

"Sure," Ashley replied and bit her bottom lip. Not only was she stuck in a strange place for years on end she was also relegated to a different wing from her mother. Bet the impossible brat lived in the other wing she thought ungraciously of her younger sibling. Afraid her mother could read her unkind thoughts Ashley wandered into the room and looked around. "You tried to recreate my bedroom," she realized.

Helen smiled. "Yes. Except without all the mess and I couldn't remember what posters you had on the wall."

"It wasn't a mess," her daughter argued. "Everything was exactly where I meant it to be." Or where it dropped on the floor and was stepped over or kicked aside when it got in her way.

Her mother's dimple appeared at the familiar answer to an old family complaint. Her Old Friend had given up trying to get Ashley to put her clothes and belongings away in an orderly fashion. He dodged into her room only to pick up and drop off the laundry. Mother and daughter had learned to ignore his frustrated grunts over the messy state of Ashley's bedroom. "I trust you'll do a better job of keeping your mess under control here seeing as you'll be responsible for your own cleaning and laundry."

"I have to do laundry?" Ashley repeated with a horrified look on her face. She'd never done a load of laundry in her life, unless one counted the times she was on a rough field expedition and had to rinse her clothes out in the sink due to lack of access to clean clothing.

"And dishes and cooking and other household chores," her mother said with amusement in her eyes. "We all have to pitch in here to survive."

Ashley's mouth gaped open. "Cooking?"

"You'll get the hang of it."

"You want me to cook?"Seriously?" Suspecting her mother was teasing her girl flopped down onto the foot of her new bed and cracked, "Right. And I'm supposed to believe Druitt does laundry and cooking? Nice try, mom."

"Not only does he cook, he's actually quite good at," Helen shared. "His laundry is passable. As I'm sure yours will be as well." She stepped back into the doorway. "The cell phone on your nightstand is configured to work here and above ground. I've programmed our numbers into the phone for you and I'll show you how to use the intercom system on the wall later. Meanwhile, why don't you have a hot bath and get some much needed rest." She paused and her eyes softened as she reveled in the fact that her baby was alive and truly safe. "Sweet dreams, my darling," she said softly. And then she was gone.

For several minutes Ashley sat frozen on the bed, unsure of what to do next. She was exhausted and felt as though she could fall asleep sitting upright where she was. Closing her eyes, she flopped back onto the bed spread eagle. No matter how much effort her mother had put into recreating her bedroom this space wasn't her bedroom. And this underground city, intriguing though it was, was not her home. There was nothing here that felt right to her. Except her mother's warm voice and touch… and her grandfather's comforting hug… and the gorgeous green eyes of mystery man Nick.

Woah! Where the heck did that come from she gasped as her eyes flew open and she sat up quickly. Shaking her head to clear her confusing thoughts, she scooted off the bed. She needed a hot bath and some sleep. She was obviously not thinking straight. And if she was going to daydream about a man it was going to be of mister Declan Macrae who was an even better kisser than she remembered. Recalling her boldness at kissing him she grinned as she dug through her bag for a change of clothing. The slim pickings of a pair of pants, two shirts, a bra and two thongs wiped the smile off her face. A whimper escaped her lips. "I'm homeless… and I have no clothes," she whined aloud. "My life sucks."

Dejectedly, she stood up and carried her shirts and lone pair of pants over to the closet, yanked open the door and dropped everything in surprise at finding the closet full of clothing. Rifling through the neatly hung items she discovered they were all in her size and style. And hanging on the back of the door were two robes. One a soft navy waffle textured cotton and one a fuzzy blue terrycloth. "Go mom," she praised and turned to eye the chest of drawers to her right speculatively. Since her mom had well stocked her closet there was a good chance she had also purchased other necessities such as pajamas. Sure enough, each drawer was full of all types of undergarments, t-shirts, and night clothes. With robe and clothes in hand, she happily headed off for a much earned hot shower next door.

Emerging later from a steamy bathroom with her head wrapped in a towel, Ashley started back to her room and then paused to look around. She could go straight to bed and stare at the ceiling while trying to force her weary body to go to sleep or she could take the opportunity to explore the floor. No contest there she smirked. As quietly as possible, she began opening the other three doors in the east wing. She quickly learned the floor plan for the east wing was comprised of a central hallway with three doors on one side and two on the other. On the north side was her bedroom, which was at the entrance of the east wing, then the large bathroom decorated with Moroccan overtones that were fortunately toned down with cream walls, and then another bedroom at the end. Cracking the door open she carefully poked her head in for a look. The hall light illuminated the room enough for Ashley to discern that it was roughly the same size as her new bedroom and that it was very femininely decorated. The walls were a soft lavender color and a curtained four poster bed was prominent against the wall. A sleeping figure sighed and turned over in the bed towards the door. Startled, Ashley quickly closed the door but not before catching a glimpse of the slumbering person. It was the pretty young woman who fallen ill along her mother and little sister. Figures her bedroom would be all fluffy and girlie a cranky Ashley thought to herself. Not that she was jealous or anything. After peering into the two bedrooms on the other side of the hall she exited the east wing, stopped to inspect the large comfortable living room that separated the two wings and took a deep breath before entering the west wing. "Let's see how the other half lives," she muttered under her breath.

There were three doors on the left and one on the right of the hallway. The first door was open wide and as she stepped near the doorway the automatic lights triggered on. The room was a bathroom painted a cheerful lemon yellow. The colorful ducky shower curtain, basket full of bath toys, and a green three stepped stool set before the sink told her that this bathroom belonged to her little sister. "So the munchkin gets her own bathroom and I have to share mine with the rest of the hall?" the annoyed blonde huffed. "Guess we know who's numero uno in this place." Glowering, she checked out the next room which turned out to be a small playroom. Across the hall she opened the lone door and poked her head inside. The room was the largest one she'd seen. Obviously her parent's bedroom and, as it took up this entire side of the hall, she bet there was an en suite at the far end. So they had their own bathroom too. Of course they did. Feeling even grouchier, she shut the door and looked back across the hall towards the last door. No need to guess whose room that was. "Let's see the princess's bedroom. I bet it's pink and nauseating," she grumbled.

The door was cracked open. As she slowly pushed it inward she bit her bottom lip as the thought occurred to her that the rugrat might still be awake and things could get really awkward as she had no idea what to say to kid. She released a relieved breath upon finding the room dark except for a nightlight opposite the door. The room was lit bright enough to tell that it was a cozy and well loved space. And it wasn't pink. It was girly though and smelled faintly of lavender. Unable to overcome her curiosity, Ashley walked toward the bed and silently stood peering down at little slumbering figure. She hated to admit it but Amelia was a beautiful child… despite the blue speckles currently dotting the child's porcelain complexion.

Ashley held her breath as the child shifted in her sleep and knocked her stuffed animal off the bed onto the floor. Staring down at the toy Ashley was startled to realize it was a velveteen rabbit. That had been her favorite toy growing up so much so that her mother had to have it re-stuffed twice. "Déjà vu," she murmured as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Suddenly she wanted to go back to her room, crawl under the covers and never come out. Jerkily she picked up the toy and placed it next to the child, careful not to touch her, and was about to hightail it out of the room when she noticed the creature slumbering at the foot of the bed. The otter, dressed in a clean nightshirt was pink lace trim that had obviously been Amelia's, was curled up in its oval cushion and snoring lightly. Its short arms were wrapped tightly around a stuffed mermaid doll. "Huh, he really does sleep with Ariel," she softly said as a hint of a smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. The little hairball was really cute when he wasn't sticking his tongue out at her or trying to pick pocket from someone.

"He's in love with her red hair," a deep voice quietly commented from behind, causing Ashley to jump and whirl around with her hand on her chest. "Quiet," he hissed and together they looked at the pair on the bed for signs that they'd awaken. After a long moment, the tall man motioned for her to join him out in the hall.

"I was just… uh… looking around," she nervously explained as Druitt pulled the door three-quarters closed and turned to face her.

"You were curious," he rightly surmised.

"Whoa, what happened to your face?" Ashley asked as she tilted to the left to stare at the harsh red streaks on his cheek.

"Your mother let me know how she felt about my taking you to London against her express wishes," he winced. Both his face and hand were alternately throbbing and he was ready to call it a day and douse himself with painkillers before turning in.

"So basically you're in the dog house," she said.

"Not the first time," he shrugged and yawned. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to turn in."

"Uh, sure," Ashley said awkwardly at being dismissed and took a step backward.

Realizing she was about to bolt down the hall, he softly added, "Sleep well, Ashley. You've been through a lot. You deserve a good rest. God knows what your mother will have in store for us next." He silently watched as his first born hurried down the hallway back to her room before turning to enter his own. "Three stubborn Magnus women under one roof. I am so screwed," he muttered to himself.

Several floors below, a pale faced, reposed figure let out a long groan and gasped for air, causing the woman seated next to his bed to snap out of her angry train of thoughts and lean forward to check his vitals. The man groaned again and weakly opened his eyes in an attempt to discern where he was. Pleased that his vitals were strengthening, the good doctor smiled down at her old friend's handsome face and lovingly rubbed his stubbly cheek with her right hand. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Jimmy," Helen greeted affectionately.

"I hate it when you call me Jimmy," he rasped back and tried to focus his eyes on her blurry face. He quickly slammed his eyes shut as the room continued to rock back and forth like he was riding the undulating waves of the ocean.

"I know," she cheekily said. "Why do you think I do it?" She kissed his forehead and sighed gratefully as her head rested against his. Their plan had worked and both he and Ashley were alive. Her family was safe and sound and at this very moment in time Helen Magnus was the happiest woman alive.


	69. Sibling Rivalry Part 1

Chapter 69: Sibling Rivalry Part 1

The heavy weight on her chest shifted, causing the sleeping woman to crease her eyebrows and let out a low groan. Her nose twitched when something tickled her and then wrinkled as a fishy odor invaded her senses. Her eyes fluttered as something wet touched her nose. Letting out a louder groan, Ashley slowly opened her blue eyes. Her blurry vision focused to find another pair of paler blue eyes staring directly back into hers. "Holy crap!" she cried and jerked upright.

With a loud squeal the startled otter slid sideways off of Ashley's chest and landed onto the carpeted floor with a loud thump. Giving his cinnamon colored head a shake, Puppy whimpered and rubbed his still bandaged foot with his front paws.

"You," Ashley accused groggily as she peered down at the creature. "What are you doing in here?"

Loud giggling on the other side of the bed startled her a second time and caused the young woman to turn abruptly to her left. Standing beside her bed was Amelia, who was dressed in a long sleeve top and matching pants decorated with Hello Kitty. Her long blonde hair was French braided with a matching pink bow at the end. A baby doll was clutched in her left arm and her inquisitive eyes, the blue-grey of their father's, looked up at her underneath a dark fringe of long black lashes. "Are you my big sister?" the child finally spoke.

"So I've been told," Ashley replied and swiped at her face. She felt like she'd been asleep for years and her body ached, probably residual effects from yesterday's adventures. "Uh, I'm Ashley," she awkwardly introduced herself as the child continued to stare at her intently.

"I'm Amelia," the little girl answered in kind. "And that's Puppy," she said of the otter as it waddled over to join her.

It was then that Ashley noticed that the otter's latest bandage consisted of white gauge around which a thin band of lace and lavender ribbon encircled to be gathered into tiny bow at the top. The furry creature was also wearing a lavender baby shirt embroidered with a cute bunny rabbit and the words "Some bunny loves you." She gave a small involuntary laugh at the ridiculous sight. "Why does he have lace and ribbon on his bandage?" she couldn't help but ask.

"He likes to feel pretty," the child replied. "Daddy says Puppy's a drag queen in a former life. I don't know what that means," she elaborated with an exaggerated shrug and adjusted the doll in her arms.

"Okay," Ashley muttered to herself, thinking not for the first time that her nutty family could give the Adams Family a good run for the money. Stretching her arms out, she groan and felt all her tight muscles loosen. "What time is it?" she asked and glanced around the room blearily in search of a clock. None was in sight.

"Time for the Rugrats," the child said with a nod. "Want to come and watch it with me and Puppy?"

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Ashley got up and looked around the room to orient herself. Nope, it wasn't a dream. She was stuck in Wonderland for the next four years. Lucky her, she thought sourly.

Bored, Amelia moved to exit the room. "Come on, Puppy. Daddy's making pizza for lunch. Maybe he'll let us roll the dough." The otter gave an excited meep and followed her, but not before picking up one of Ashley's socks.

"Hey, give that back," Ashley ordered. The otter responded by biting down on the top of the sock and racing out of the room on all four legs. "Great," Ashley grumbled, grabbing her robe and heading next door to wash up. "A cross dresser and a kleptomaniac."

The sight that greeted her when she entered the kitchen was certainly a surprise. Standing on what looked like a miniature set of stairs Amelia was leaning forward onto the kitchen island working a child sized rolling pin over a dough ball. Beside her the otter, who was seated in a child's high chair that had been pushed under the island, was working his own little ball of dough with a doll sized rolling pin. Grinning, Ashley walked up to the island for a closer look. "So, what's going on?"

"We're making pizza," Amelia replied and, with her tongue peaking out the side of her mouth, rolled harder to level out her dough. "How's that, Lucy?"

"Good," the redhead praised, "but let's turn it 60 degrees and roll it in the opposite direction." She helped the child turn the dough before turning to Ashley. Smiling pleasantly, she introduced herself. "Hi, I'm Lucy. We almost meet two days ago before the unfortunate flower incident."

Ashley blinked. "Did you say two days ago?"

"You've been asleep a long time," Amelia interjected. "Maybe you're sleeping beauty." She stopped rolling and looked up. "Puppy gave you a kiss this afternoon and you woke up. Maybe he's your Prince Charming."

A burst of laughter caused the group to look around. Nick, still chuckling, joined them at the island. "Into little hairy males, are you?"

"Not ones with fish breath," Ashley retorted. To the otter, she said, "And I want my sock back, butterball." At the otter's sticking his tongue out at her, she narrowed her eyes. "You really have a bad attitude for a rodent."

"He's not a rodent," Amelia corrected her with a frown. "He's an otter."

Nick gave the girl a playful tug on her braid. "How much longer until lunch, kiddo?"

"Soon," she assured him, "but first I have to get the dough perfect." She put aside her roller and began pushing the dough out from the center with her hands like Lucy was doing with her larger dough piece. The otter abandoned his toy roller and began patting down his dough in imitation of the two women.

"Otter see, otter do, huh?" Ashley observed.

"More or less," Nick said as he rummaged through the fridge, "but with attitude." He held up a pitcher of tea and both women said "yes" at the same time and looked at each other. Nick grinned again and poured three glasses.

"So you two," Ashley hesitantly asked, "how are you connected to this place?"

"James Watson," Nick answered and handed her a glass.

"How do you know James?"

"They're my wards," a familiar male voice explained from the doorway. "Wayward though they be."

"You love that about us," Lucy teased as she began spooning sauce over her pizza pie and adding toppings. "We keep you on your toes. There's nothing you dislike more than boring people."

Turning to talk to her godfather Ashley's mouth dropped agape at the sight of him. "Uncle James, your legs…" He looked exactly as he always did with the exception of his legs. There were no mechanical braces attached to either limb and only then did it register with her that she hadn't heard his approach. Instead, he was using a pair of crutches to support his still weakened limbs. That wouldn't last long. He was determined to walk on his own with no supports and had worked out a physical therapy routine months before his transfer here.

James smiled at his dumbfounded godchild. "I'm free of my mechanical cage as you can see," he said and reached out to take her hand. "And how are you doing, my girl? I hear tell I have you to thank for helping rescue me from the mausoleum."

"I'm fine," she lied and smiled briefly as he squeezed her hand to let her know he knew she didn't mean any of it.

"Of course you are," James said. There was a loud plop followed by some whining.

"It's okay, Puppy," Lucy said, giving the otter a little pat on its head and leaning down to pick up his dough pile. "It'll taste fine once it's cooked."

"I'll pass on that one," Ashley declared and sat down at the far end of the island.

"That's Puppy's pizza," Amelia pointed out. "You have to make your own. We all pull our own weight here."

James chuckled at Ashley's reaction to her little sister's reprimand. "You'll get the hang of this place," he encouraged with a squeeze on the shoulder. "Come, let's make something to eat. I'm starving." At his words she realized that she too was famished.

Pausing in the doorway, Helen took in the sight of her family bonding over preparing lunch at the kitchen island. The heavenly smell of pizza had wafted down the hallway to her office and teasingly reached her receptive senses. The proud mother was amused to observe her oldest child making a pizza side by side by James Watson and arguing over toppings.

"Kippers?" the blonde repeated with a snort. "I think you're confusing our pizza with the rodent's."

"He's not a rodent," Amelia reminded with a roll of her eyes. "He's an otter. Boy, are you slow."

James chuckled at his eldest goddaughter's narrowed glare towards his youngest goddaughter. Two younger versions of their pigheaded, sometimes reckless mother were bound to stir things up around here. And in the future whenever they clashed with one another, which was inevitable, James was going to sit back, smirk at Druitt and remind him that the squabbling women were his problem.

A warm breath brushed against Helen's ear as a familiar deep voice rumbled, "It was all worth it, don't you agree? Our lovely little family gathered together, safe and sound."

"Yes, despite someone's carelessness," she shot back, though not as harshly has she would have two days ago.

"You sell our oldest child's abilities short," he remarked, earning him a dark glare from the child's resentful mother. "Everything has worked out in the end." He looked back at the family tableau in the kitchen and thought not for the first time that he and Helen produced beautiful offspring. Even the cinnamon-colored otter was a beautiful specimen of his species though John was not shy about pointing out that the creature was adopted. His last minute swapping of cooking duty times with Lucy appeared to be a success as well. Ashley seemed to be relaxed and recovering from her confusion and anger at being relocated here. Perhaps the girl would fit in more easily than he had originally predicted.

His partner was having similar thoughts thought she didn't voice it. She was, however, vocal about still being angry at him for taking Ashley to London. "No thanks to you," Helen shot back and pulled away to enter the room. He sighed and stretched out his stiff neck before fallowing in her wake. Two nights on the couch in the living room was taking its toll on his long body. It didn't surprise him that his lover would hold onto her grudge but it did annoy him. There were no other free beds available in the Avalon aside from the two spare beds in the infirmary that were shorter and more narrow than the couch and he certainly wasn't going to try bunking with James, who had a king sized bed to himself. He didn't want to resort to sleeping in the cabin above ground however knowing how long Helen could remain angry he was most likely going to give in or else wind up so sore he would not be able to stand upright. In short, he was a most disgruntled man.

John's words would come back to haunt Helen two weeks later. What started off as a highly productive afternoon going through the latest batch of digital files Lucy had scanned from fragile old leather bound books in the library had led to several significant findings on abnormals that existed or had existed within the area of the extensive mountain chain. Lucy participated in the intellectual exchange between the two old friends with an ease and determination that reminded James so much of Helen as a younger woman. He was grateful, however, that his ward was levelheaded enough that crazy notations such as shooting vampire serum into her body never occurred to the bubbly redhead. The trio was so involved in their conversation that the shrill announcement of an incoming call on Helen's tablet made them jump.

"Where are you?" came John's distance voice. At her reply he countered with "I thought you were watching Amelia and Puppy this afternoon while I helped Nick shore up deteriorating metal bars in the lower level holding cells?"

"They're taking their nap. Ashley's nearby keeping an eye on them," she distractedly explained as she switched the image on the screen to the next one.

"I think not," he said and it was the obvious humor in his tone that caught James' attention. "What did they do?" he asked garnering a surprised look from both women who had missed the tone Druitt's answer.

"Oh, I think mummy dearest should see for herself," came the amused reply.

"Just tell me," an impatient Helen demanded. "I'm in the middle of something here. Or better yet call Ashley to deal with it."

"Oh, I think you'll want to see this."

"John!"

There was a long pause before John's face appeared on the screen. "I hope you're not too busy to deal with this, my dear," he over sweetly asked. His smile curled up into a Cheshire grin at her stern glare and very slowly he pivoted the screen until the viewers at the other end could see what he saw.

The older woman's eyes bugged out as Lucy gasped aloud "Oh my God!" and James fell back against his chair laughing. The wooden chair screeched as it flew backwards and its occupant stormed out of the room. The pair left behind exchanged glances and giggled again. "Aw," Lucy whined when the screen went black on the tablet. "I wanted to see the showdown."

"I'm sure we'll hear all the gory details," James snickered. "Hell hath no fury like a momma bear on the loose."

Arms crossed, John was leaning against the doorway to their bathroom watching his young daughter and her playmate having the time of their lives. At Helen's approach his eyes slid sideways to take in the exasperated look on her lovely face. She came to stop next to him and her hands planted themselves on her hips as the lines of her lips pressed into a thin line. She stared at the wreck of a room for a long moment before asking in a hesitant voice, "Amelia? Puppy?"

"Mummy!" the happy child greeted her mother and rushed over to hug her mother around the waist. A smaller form wrapped itself around her leg and squealed in recognition of its adoptive mother. Helen stared down in dismay at the messy duo. Two color streaked faces beamed up at her. "What have you two naughty children been up too, hmmm?"

"We're playing dress up," Amelia cheerfully shared and stepped back to twirl in her mother's lace top which hung long enough that she tripped over the hem and skidded forward. Helen caught her before the child fell to the ground. The otter that was mimicking her wasn't as lucky and bowled into his father's long legs.

Shaking his head at the creature's silliness, John watched in good humor as the fur ball shook himself and looked up briefly crossed eyed before righting himself and sitting on its haunches. Puppy was wearing one of Helen's silk scarves, had several of Amelia's bows clipped around his head, his nails were haphazardly painted mismatched colors, and there was evidence of heavy application of shimmery eye shadow and powder around his face. "You do know you're a male otter, right?" John teased. "Pink and purple are not the most masculine colors on a male."

The otter uttered a questioning squeak as if confused by the idea that colors could be masculine and feminine. "Puppy likes pink and purple," Amelia declared loftily. "It brings out the blue in his eyes."

Her mother's mouth rebelliously turned up in a grin at that. It was hard to stay mad at the children's innocent playfulness.

"And the brassiere?" John asked with a nod toward the child.

"I like the flowers," Amelia said glancing down at the bright bra that was worn loose over her mother's lace top. The large empty cups which hugged her mother's breasts perfectly were in this instance limp save for two miniature dolls Amelia had stuffed in one cup and the small bean bag baby rabbit in the other.

"So do I," her father agreed in his deep tone and his eyes focused on Helen. "Particularly when your mother models it for me."

"Which won't be happening anytime soon," she glared back at him. She stopped, sniffed at the air and drew back in disgust. "What is that dreadful smell?"

It was his turn to look dismayed. "That would be my shirt. One of the stone geckos piddled on me from above while we were welding in the remaining iron bar. I was on my way to the shower when I discovered our offspring entertaining themselves in our bathroom."

Entertaining was an understatement. The toddlers had taken the unmonitored opportunity to play dress up in their mother's closet and makeup case. Discarded clothing was strewn around the floor. Containers of makeup were spilled out onto the dressing counter and stained the surface where the brushes had fallen. On the floor were splatters of nail polish from a spilt bottle. Noticing this, Helen glanced down at the children's hands and sighed. What a mess! "Where is your sister?" she grumbled as she opened an upper cabinet to reach for the nail polish remover.

"I dunno know," Amelia shrugged and moved back to the counter to reach for a tube of lipstick. She was deterred at the last minute from applying a new layer onto her already heavily made up face by her mother, who swiped the tube out of the child's hand with a swift, "And that's enough of that."

Rolling his eyes at his daughter's loud protest, the big man ducked back into the bedroom, rummaged quickly through his drawer for a new shirt and headed to the hall bathroom used by the children. Better to deal with animal stickers on the tub floor and a yellow duckie shower curtain than to be within range when Helen's temper finally snapped. After all, someone had to clean up the children and the disaster of a master bathroom.

Exhausted, Ashley was resting in one of the stools at the kitchen island and humming along to the song blaring on her phone's speaker. It was her turn for kitchen/family room detail and the place was now spotless. Though she had done plenty of her share of house work back at the Sanctuary it was different from the large set of duties she was shared here. Mostly because Biggie had done the bulk of the cleaning. He liked to clean, claiming it relaxed him. Dusting in particular seemed to mellow him out. The blonde was mulling over getting some ice cream out of the freezer when a dark shadow fell over her. She looked up to the annoyed face of her put upon mother. "Who rained on your parade?" she asked.

"That would be you," came the terse reply.

"Me? What did I do? I've been cleaning all afternoon and doing two loads of towels," Ashley exclaimed defensively.

"You forgot to watch your sister," Helen accused.

"No I didn't," Ashley denied. "She and fur face are napping. See." She waved her hand over the tablet lying nearby and was surprised to see find the nursery empty when the monitor revived. "Oh. Oops."

"Oops would be right," her mother grumbled back and moved aside so that Ashley could check out her younger siblings who were standing behind their mother.

"Holy crap!" Ashley snorted a strangled laugh at the sight of the untidy pair. "What happened to them?"

"They decided to play dress up." By the glare her mother was aiming Ashley's way it was apparent whom the older woman held responsible for the situation.

"They were asleep!"

"They woke up."

"I was cleaning!"

"And you're not done," her mother declared. "They need a bath."

Ashley's jaw dropped. "I just finished cleaning. Why don't you bath them?"

"I have to clean the mess they made in the bathroom… unless you want to do that instead."

Ashley eyed the pair unhappily. She'd rather clean toilets than bath children, especially this trouble prone pair. "I have rights you know. I'm not their nanny." Her mother's narrowed eyes spoke volumes on what she thought of that comment.

"I want a popsicle," Amelia announced and was seconded by her eager sidekick.

"You're getting a bath," her mother firmly insisted.

"I'll spill the popsicle on me and get messy again," Amelia countered. "I better eat the popsicle first than take a bath." The otter sounded his agreement and stared up at his mother as if that were the most logical thing to do.

Ashley rolled her eyes so hard she thought they'd pop out of her head. Better to scrub the floor than to be stuck dealing with the trouble two-some. "I'll clean the bathroom," she grunted and stomped out of the room. But not before barking over her shoulder, "This sucks. Cinderella didn't work under these harsh conditions. She didn't have to clean up after those two!"

It was Helen's turn to roll her eyes. When did her offspring become such drama queens?

"I want a banana pop!" Amelia called out and jumped up in an attempt to reach the fridge. Thankfully she wasn't tall enough… yet.

Hearing the otter begin to push one of the stools toward the fridge got the woman moving. Putting a heavy hand down on the stool to stop it in place she looked down at her hairy adopted son. Puppy meeped up at her with a clear frown. He didn't like anyone preventing him from his next treat. "You're supposed to be on a diet," she reminded him. He scrunched up his snout and snarled. He resented the word "diet." Sighing she opened the fridge. "You can split a popsicle" she consented and ignored the children's protests. Definitely little drama queens.


	70. Sibling Rivalry Part 2

Chapter 70: Sibling Rivalry Part 2

And so it went. A progressing timeline of clashing incidents between the children that seemed to escalate. By two month's time the cozy family scene of everyone making pizza in the kitchen had crashed and burned as Helen watched her offspring going at one another in another disaster that was once a spotless kitchen.

"Let go, you mangy dust ball," Ashley ordered as she wrestled with the growling otter over her last remaining pair of socks.

"Leave my Puppy alone!" a shrill little voice cried behind her. Amelia had a hold of the tail of her older sister's shirt and was trying to pull her away from the otter.

"Hey, I'm trying to make lunch here," Nick exclaimed and tried to valiantly protect the plates on the island from the fracas. "Take your argument somewhere else!"

"Let go!" Ashley yelled back at her stubborn sibling, swinging her backside back in an attempt to knock the child free.

"You let go!" the toddler yelled back and yanked harder, causing them to fall against the island and knock over some of the plates.

The growling otter meanwhile slipped on the sandwich fixings that had been knocked onto the ground and shot forward, barreling into his opponent who yelped and fell backwards onto her backside, taking the toddler down to the ground with them.

Helen gritted her teeth in dismay as her youngest began crying, the otter wailing as it lost hold of the socks, and her indignant older child who now was covered with food was threatening to turn the otter into a pair of moccasins. Slapping her hands onto her hips the angry mother raised her voice to demand an explanation. She held out her hands and barked "Quiet!" after a loud chorus of complaints was aimed her way.

The silence lasted less than a minute before the grumbling started up again. The otter, seizing the opportunity to grab hold of the socks again, tried to get away with his prize only to slip and go skidding across the floor on slices of tomatoes smack into the legs of his human mother. The dismayed doctor reached down and picked the otter back up by the collar of his stained shirt. The guilty creature refused to meet her eyes, glancing around nervously as it held fast to the once white and clean socks.

"Something has to be done about the sock thief," Ashley demanded as she stood and picked smashed tomatoes, pickles and onions off her clothing. "Those are my last matching pair and I'm this close to making a pair of boots out of the rodent."

"He's not a rodent!" the toddler scolded as she scrambled back to her feet. "And you need to stop picking on him." She turned her tear stained face to her mother, gave a loud pitiful sniff and wailed, "She's mean to me and Puppy! I don't like her."

"Right back at ya, brat," Ashley retort. She returned the angry glare from her mother with one of her own.

"Ashley!" the older woman reprimanded.

"This is not my fault!" Ashley argued back as she waved her arms about the messed up room.

"I didn't do it!" Amelia hotly denied. She didn't meet her mother's eyes when asked how the sandwich fixings ended up on the floor.

"Well this certainly isn't my fault!" an angry Nick bellowed and slammed a plate down onto the counter, chipping its base. He'd watched the growing conflict between the siblings with growing annoyance. Though he understood Ashley's frustration he also understood that sacrifices had to be made when one was the older sibling. The lengths he'd gone through to protect Lucy after their parents' death was light years more difficult than what Ashley was going through and his sympathy for her was wearing thin. She was acting as childish as, well, the child.

"I didn't say it was!" Ashley exclaimed defensively and waved her hands animatedly at the kids. "It's Bonnie and Clyde's fault! They're nothing but trouble."

"You're trouble!" Amelia yelled back. "You've been trouble since you came here. We were happy before you came and messed everything up! I hate you!" The otter hissed in agreement.

The stricken look on Ashley's face tempered the angry words her mother was about to say. "Ashley…" she began and was cut off as her oldest brushed her aside to storm out of the room. "Ashley!"

"Do I want to know what's going on?" John asked from the doorway. He'd heard the yelling and had his tearful eldest child race by him toward her bedroom. The sour expressions on everyone's face told him he probably didn't want to know but he had to ask.

"Your offspring are at it again," Helen growled in reply as she turned her anger on him.

"Why is it they're _my_ offspring when they do something wrong and they're _your_ offspring when they're behaving?" he shot back. He was in an equally sour mood after waking up late this morning to find a pair of stone geckos in his bed. Helen was still holding firm to her resolve to not share a bed with him and he was inhabiting one of the infirmary rooms as his temporary bedroom with two of the beds pushed together to fit his long frame.

"Because that's how it works!" she snapped. "Deal with it!"

"What if I don't want to deal with it?" he growled back and planted his feet apart in a fighting stance. His temper with Helen's holding him at arm's length was near its breaking point.

Helen's nasty words never rolled off her tongue for loud balling drowned them out. The dueling adults frowned down at the child and otter who, upset by their parents' fight, began bawling.

Nick grunted in disgust. "I know just how you feel, kid." He leaned down, picked up the child and the otter in each arm and hefted them up. He glared at the two feuding adults in reproach and stomped out of the room with the children.

"Your fault," the pair accused one another.

"Women!" John huffed and stalked off.

"Jackass!" Helen yelled after him.

At the opposite end of the hall James and Gregory pulled their heads back into the living room. "Your offspring," James said with a sigh and returned to his comfortable wing chair and ottoman.

"Don't remind me," the older doctor shook his gray head with consternation.

Her head back against the cold stone pillar she gave a tired sigh and closed her eyes. Hours had passed since the confrontation in the kitchen and the thorough cry she'd given into helped to relieve some of the lingering anger she felt. Awareness of the cold that had seeped beyond the warmth of her jeans, top, and sweatshirt was settling in. As was the awareness that she wasn't alone anymore. She sat up suddenly and glanced around.

A tall figure emerged from the shadow to her right. "Sorry. I didn't want to invade your privacy but I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine," she lied and swiped at her swollen eyes to brush away any remaining tears.

He nodded and stepped carefully along the narrow long edge and lowered his lean frame down to sit on the carved lower stone framing of a damaged old window. His sharp eyes scanned around to take in all the details of their high location. She had chosen an obscure, hidden corner on the upper terrace of the old city as a place to air her private pain.

She tucked her face down and repeated that she was fine.

He nodded. "Of course you are. Why wouldn't you be? You're only the child of two uniquely demented individuals. Why wouldn't you be fine being holed up in a long lost underground city cut off from much contact with the outside world?"

Startled, Ashley looked up at him. "You think my parents are demented? Okay, we both know Druitt's crackers… or was so he claims… but mom, you think mom's nuts too?"

He crossed his arms, leaned back against the wall and peered down at her. "The woman collects and protects abnormals. She's reckless, stubborn and acts like she's invincible. And she's raised an otter and a werewolf as her own offspring. That sound like someone who's in their right mind to you?"

That last bit got a brief upturn of her mouth. "Not to be contrary but as her partner in the Sanctuary you also collect and protect abnormals. Does that make you nuts too?"

"Given that my two closest friends are your parents most definitely," her godfather freely admitted with a self deprecating smile that widen as she laughed.

"You poor man," she smiled up at him sympathetically.

He patted her hand. "Never mind me. We're here to talk about you."

"Me?"

"As your duly appointed godfather it has not escaped my notice that your parents have placed a large burden upon you. Unrightly so. I am here to help you rectify that."

Brows wrinkled she stared back at him in confusion. "Huh?"

"You have been treated unfairly. You were spirited away from your life against your free will. Brought here to live in part isolation for four years. And now your mother is forcing you to act as a nanny to a pair of highly strung and willful toddlers. You have cause to protest this injustice done to you and I plan to take it up with your parents."

"What?!" she exclaimed and sat upright.

"I am going to tell your mother, in no uncertain terms, that she is to stop treating you like the hired help."

"She doesn't do that… really," Ashley weakly protested as her mind raced with scenarios of the possible fall out that might occur if James were to get involved in her disagreement with her parents.

He patted her hand again. "Gregory and I heard the yelling in the library. No need to sugar coat your mother's transgressions."

Ashley's mouth dropped open. He was serious.

"Helen is forcing you to raise the children so that she can return to her work. She is neglecting her duty. I shall set her straight, mark my words."

"What, wha…" she stuttered. "No, no, you misunderstood. It's not like that at all. Mom isn't neglecting Amelia and Puppy. She spends a lot of time with them. She's not a deadbeat mom!"

"Could have fooled me," he snorted.

"Seriously. She's a good mom. She and dad take turns watching the kids."

"Then why do you end up babysitting them so often?" he inquired with a raised brow.

"I only actually babysat them once. They were asleep and mom asked me to keep an eye on them and call her if they woke up."

"And the other times?" he asked doubtfully. "When you three ended up in arguments?"

She blew out a sigh. "My little sister and her hairy side kick are constantly underfoot. It feels like every time I turn around one of them is there… wanting me to play with them or nagging me about something. I have no privacy." She bit her bottom lip for a long minute before confessing, "I'm not exactly experienced with children, Uncle James. The closest thing I've come to that type of responsibility is the pet frog I had… and he got eaten by a giant two-headed hawk that got loose in the Sanctuary." Her face scrunched up and her eyes began to get watery. "I'm homesick. I miss Henry. I miss Biggie. I miss my bike." It all came out in an unexpected confession and she slapped her hand across her mouth to stifle the sob that followed.

"And you're stuck here with a bunch of boring old buzzards," he concluded as he threw an arm around the girl's shoulders and pulled her into him. Her head came to rest on his shoulder and he tilted his against it. "It will get better, my girl. I know you're having a hard time believing that right now but it's true."

"Has it gotten easier for you?" she volleyed back.

"Yes, but I've had more experience with change than you have." He glanced around and scruitinzed their surroundings. "The difference for me is that this will not be a short term residence."

She leaned back to stare up at him. "What do you mean?"

"I will be remaining here when it is time for you to return to the Old City Sanctuary. This is my home. That's why we have all been working on remodeling and restoring the place."

"But why?" she asked with in confusion.

"Declan is running the London Sanctuary."

"He'd be happy to have you back though, I know he would."

"Hmmmm. No doubt. However, he doesn't need me looking over his shoulder. He's been in training for taking it over for years now." He motioned to their surroundings with a wave of his hand. "This will be my new Sanctuary."

She wrinkled up her nose in disapproval. "Why?"

"This isn't the first time I've established a new sanctuary. As you know the London one was relocated after the original was bombed in World War II." His jaw tightened. "I think this place will come in handy in the future. We've become too visible in the outside world."

"You think something bad is going to happen?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "Perhaps I'm being too conservative. Yet having a hidden site away from prying eyes can't hurt."

"True," she agreed and sighed. "Well, you have my willing hands for whatever you need."

Placing a kiss on the crown of her golden head he declared, "My offer to talk to your mother about the children stands. Say the word and I'll gladly take her on."

She laughed. "Thanks but that won't be necessary. I can fight my own battles." It was his turn to laugh. "The rugrats aren't so bad. Amelia's just a little bit bossy…"

"Like her mother," he interjected.

She grinned broadly. "You said it, not me. And the otter… seriously, what is the deal with him and socks? No one seems to know why he has such a foot wear fetish."

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and pondered the question. Why did the otter horde socks so much? "I suspect it has to do with his tragic childhood circumstances. As an infant he was rescued when near death's door. Your mother nursed him back to prime health. The otter came to realize he was being cared for as an offspring in a similar fashion to young Amelia. He learned quickly that by emulating her he would be treated similarly. If a bib was tied around her neck food soon followed. He thus held up bibs to be tied around his neck to signal he too wanted food." He flashed Ashley a devilish smirk. "Puppy used to badger John to no end with his bib routine anytime it was John's turn to cook. The sight of a six pound otter manipulating that fierce giant of a man was priceless. And there was nothing John could do about it without upsetting the women."

"Sneaky little thing, wasn't he?" Ashley surmised in amusement. She recalled how he'd tried to sneak off with her Twinkie when she'd first arrived.

"Resourceful is his middle name," James concurred. "He's smarter than the average otter. If his human sibling wore a cute little outfit she received praise and adoration. He therefore insisted on human clothing too. Socks were his nemesis. His first winter with us the heating system went down several times. Your mother made sure Amelia's feet were always covered to keep her warm. No pair fit the otter and so he became fixated on socks in the hopes that he'll find a pair that fits him. It hasn't escaped his notice that we all wear socks but him. That makes him different. An outsider."

"That's kind of sad," Ashley said. "Nutty but sad."

James laughed. "He fits in well with our lot. We're all loony in our own way."

"I'm not," she declared and raised her chin defiantly.

He smiled. "Then you'd be the only one."

"Lucy and Nick are normal," she pointed out.

He snorted. "Lucy loves ancient languages, categorizing the library, and knitting miniature sweaters and hats for an otter. And Nick is far from normal."

"What does that mean?" she frowned.

"Never you mind. You have found yourself a nice place to get away from everything," he brushed away her question.

The conversation with James bolstered her spirit and renewed her determination to survive living as a mountain hermit. The next week passed by without incident. Her parents treaded carefully not to push her though their anger with one another was by no means tempered. Amelia ignored her older sibling for a while until she grew tired of being ignored herself. She then found ways to be near Ashley without having to truly interact with her. As was the case today. Ashley and Nick had set off to work a quadrant of the city four sections over. Each section was like a multi-storied villa that connected to the next section to form the stone city of Avalon. With help Nick had renovated the first three sections to be habitable.

While he slowly began clearing the first large room of debris he tossed into a four-wheeled oversized metal bin he'd rigged up to be easily maneuverable, Ashley stalked the room making sure it was clear of obstacles. "Ha, gotta cha," she called out cheerfully as she spotted a small stone gecko hiding in some rubble opposite of the doorway. She aimed her stunner and tagged the creature before it could scamper away.

"You take far too much joy shooting things," Nick observed. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"No one that lived," she called back with a sweet smile that widen as he rolled his eyes at her.

A faint squeaky spinning noise outside the room caught their attention. The stone walls of the city amplified noise when rugs and tapestries were absent from the walls. "Tell me that isn't what I think it is?" she groaned.

He smiled. "They've been tailing us since we exited the main house. They think they're being clever by staying out of sight."

"I didn't know they were following us. Mom is going to flip when she learns they wandered off after us unsupervised."

"Who said they were unsupervised?" Nick commented smugly. "I've kept an eye on them the whole time."

"How?" she demanded.

"Cameras in the hallways and a tracking device on her bicycle," he said as he huffily dragged a heavy rotted beam toward his trash bin.

"You bugged her bicycle?" Ashley repeated in surprise. "She's four and riding a bike with training wheels. Where's she going to go?"

"Places she isn't supposed to go, like here," he retorted as he tossed the beam into the bin. He deliberately kept the child's bicycle wheels slightly squeaky as another means of tracking her location. The man had impressive muscle strength Ashley thought as she couldn't help but stare at him. He caught her staring and gave her a dimpled smile back, causing her to go slightly red and dropping her head to obscure her face with her long hair. Her bangs had grown out and as she shoved her hair back over her ears she debated once again cutting her bangs herself. "She's much like her older sister," he teased.

"I believe you mean her mother," she retorted sassily.

Both turned their attention to the doorway. "You might as well come in, kiddo," Nick called out. "You know you're supposed to stay in eyesight of an adult."

The squeaking got louder as she rode in with the otter resting in the basket Nick has installed over the back wheel. "Aw, how did you know we were here?" the child ruefully pouted.

"I know everything," he said as he strolled over to stare down at her with his hands on his hips.

"You do not," she argued back cheerfully.

"You are a very naughty girl," he reprimanded with a tap on her nose.

"I know," she giggled and climbed off her bike. She was dressed in a pink, long sleeved warm up suit and wore a knitted cap decorated with a flourish of colorful felt flowers. Lucy really did like making elaborate clothing for munchkins Ashley thought to herself as she turned to look at the otter. Puppy was wearing a blue sweatshirt with a large lace heart stitched in the center. The arms had been tailored to fit his short arms and he wore a green knit hat that had slits from which his fuzzy ears poked out of. Ashley couldn't help but smile at the ridiculous sight as Amelia lifted her sidekick out of his basket and placed him on the ground next to her.

"What's in the backpack?" an equally amused Nick inquired.

"Everybody knows you have to have a backpack when you go on a trip," the child explained matter of factly.

"Indeed," Nick agreed and tugged her golden braids. "Your mother is going to be very unhappy when she learns you wandered out alone without an adult."

"We don't have to tell her," the child suggested. "And I didn't wander out alone. Puppy and I followed you."

The otter meanwhile was sniffing loudly at the air and had waddled over near Ashley. He ignored her as she greeted him with "What's up butterball?" to stare intently at the rubble. "It's just a stone geck…" she began and was in the process of stretching her arm out to grab the stunned creature when she was cut off by the otter who had reared back and was hissing loudly. She barely managed to raise the stunner in her right hand and shoot as the oversized gecko leaped off its higher perch at her. Its weight knocked her to the ground where she landed with a loud oomph.

"Nice shot, Annie Oakley," Nick smartly praised as he lifted the stunned creature off her. He swung the heavy gecko outward where it swept by the otter who continued to hiss in alarm. "It's out cold," he assured the otter. It scrunched up its nose as if smelling something very unpleasant to let the human know how it felt about the scaly intruder.

"Thanks," Ashley thanked the otter as she scrambled back upright. Puppy gave her a hopefully look and issued a questioning meep up at her. "No, I am not sharing my lunch with you," she said. "You're on a diet. I, on the other hand, can eat whatever I want." The otter stuck its tongue out at her. "Yeah, that's attractive," she snorted and collected the smaller gecko from its rocky hole. The geckos were being moved to a pile of ruins outside the city's edge. They weren't dangerous so much as annoying and icky. Unchecked they had multiplied within the city to the point they had become as numerous as roaches. A limited number would be allowed to reside within Avalon to keep down the number of other pests.

Amelia was by Nick's side as he walked his captive to a series of stacked cages on another wheeled cart. She squealed "Ewwww!" in delight as he allowed her to touch the slumbering creature's tail before carefully placing it inside one of the cage.

Ashley held up the baby gecko to eye level and shook her head. "Only a face a mother could love," she remarked before adding it to the same cage as its parent.

"I want to catch one," Amelia declared and looked up at Nick expectantly.

Her sister rejected that idea. "No way."

"I can catch one if I want to," the child pouted with a glare. "You're not the boss of me."

"With what?" Ashley asked. "Your bare hands? You really want to hold one of those things? You know they pee on you when they're annoyed, right? Think of how many times dad's been peed on."

The child wrinkled up her nose. "Yuck." She stared at the weapon in her sister's hand and Ashley could see the wheels turning in the child's head.

"Forget it. Weapons are for adults. Mom will definitely flip if I let you use a gun."

"Kiddo, we need to work," Nick stepped in between the pair to prevent a standoff and kneeled down to look the child in the eye. "Do you want me to take you back to the house or do you want to play over there while we work?" He motioned to a space cleared off to the left where he could keep her in sight.

"I want to help Ashley catch a gecko," Amelia countered.

"No guns… and you have to stay within sight and listen to your sister," he negotiated.

The girl blew out a sigh. "Okay. But I get to pick up the gecko and put it in the cage." The pair looked over at Ashley expectantly.

"Fine. You can bag while I tag," she agreed reluctantly. "As long as you stay out of the way. I accidently stun you and mom will have a cow."

Flashing a triumphant smile Amelia called out for her partner in crime to help her find a gecko. More than two hours passed and Ashley was forced to admit that Magnus junior might have inherited the family genes for tracking abnormals. They had cleared the larger room and were in the process of clearing the second of two smaller rooms opposite the central hallway. "Ha ha!" the child giggled as she help up the unconscious baby gecko. "This makes 15 I caught."

The indignant otter nearby glared up at the gecko that had bit him on the tail before it was captured and bared his fangs.

"Oh, you'll live you big sissy," Ashley said as she finished inspected its tail. "It was a baby. It didn't even break the skin." The otter whipped around, narrowed its eyes at her, and uttered a squeaky response that sounded like it was cussing her out. "Language," she shook her finger at him. "You're too young to have such a filthy mouth."

Neither was paying attention to Amelia, who had stepped back against an old stone fireplace to stare up at the ceiling in search of more scaly targets. "I think we caught them all," she began as her left elbow moved back against the fireplace. She heard the clicking sound seconds before she was pitched backward.

Ashley's head snapped up at the sound of her little sister's screaming. Before she could react she saw the child falling backward into an opening in the fireplace that hadn't been there before. "Amelia!" she cried out and raced toward her. It felt like time had slowed to a snail's pace as she ran toward her. "No!" she heard herself screaming as the child disappeared from sight and the fireplace panel slammed in her face. "Amelia!" Ashley called out over and over as she ran her hands over the fireplace's rough stone surface trying to trigger it open again. "Amelia!"


	71. The Descent

Chapter 71: The Descent

His heart pounded loudly in his ears as he raced towards the sounds of distress coming across the hall. He skidded to a stop before hitting the fireplace and leaned down to breathlessly ask what was wrong. As a hysterical Ashley briefly filled him in the equally hysterical otter pawed desperately at the fireplace and wailed pitifully for its sibling. "Knock it off!" Ashley barked. The creature's wailing sounded unnervingly like that of a wailing baby and it was giving her the creeps. Her voice cracked as she exclaimed, "Help me! I can't get it to open again! I can't find the stupid trigger!"

Nick pushed the agitated woman aside and ordered her to retrieve his bags. "I need my tools," he declared to cut off her protesting. Kneeling before the fireplace he quickly studied it and imagined the child standing before it. Whatever triggered the opening had to have been caused by either the child's weight or touch. He ignored the otter's continued wailing and concentrated on the area that fitted Amelia's height. Finally his ears registered a very faint clicking noise and he released the breath he didn't know he was holding.

The otter ceased its crying to lift its nose inquiringly. Its cinnamon-colored snout twitched as the animal sniffed the stale, musty air that leaked through the small crack that had appeared. He pressed his nose into it and succeeded in slipping one paw inside. While the opening was too small for the man to get more than three fingers inside the otter could get most of its arm inside. He gave a low, mournful whimper as he sensed his human sibling was not on the other side.

"You got it," a relieved voice exclaimed as heavy bags dropped beside him.

"Not quite," Nick shook his head and dug into his trusty black duffle bag. Pulling out a solid pry bar he worked it into the gap and slowly pushed the opening wider.

Ashley nervously looked on and once again thought how strong her colleague was. Incredibly strong. Perhaps stronger than even Druitt. It occurred to her for the first time that there might be much more to Nick Cutter than what could be observed on the surface. She had a vague idea how the Cutter siblings ended up in James' care but all three of them glossed over it or sidestepped the topic on those rare occasions when it came up. Hmmm. Might be worth exploring she mused. After all, the two were around her family all the time. It might be a good idea to find out why. Her train of thought was derailed by Nick's harsh expelling of breath and dropping of the metal bar. "Why are you stopping? We need to get to Amelia!"

Breathing hard, he rubbed his sore right hand. "It won't open further. The mechanism must be jammed." She bumped against him, picked up the bar and tried to pry the opening wider.

"It's no good. We need to try something else," he declared and sat back on his backside to catch his second wind.

"What?" she exclaimed and was prepared to argue with him when the otter began trying to squeeze himself into the gap. It grunted as it struggled to wiggle its chubby body through. "Diet," its human companions muttered in unison as Nick flattened his palm against its rump and pushed the creature through. Nick aimed a flashlight into the opening and peered in. "Find a lever or button to activate the door," he instructed the otter. A series of frustrated squeaks followed.

"Just do it, butterball!" Ashley fussed back. "We're running out of time!" A rude noise was issued from inside. At her narrowing her eyes Nick interjected, "He's doing the best he can. Give him another minute."

"And then what?" she demanded. "It's been almost fifteen minutes. "We don't know where Amelia is or what's happening to her. She's only a little girl!"

"You're right. We need to call your parents," he sighed. They were not going to take the news well at all. Their heads snapped back to the fireplace as a faint grinding noise could be heard. The opening doubled in width and the otter waddled back out. "It's an elevator," Nick concluded as he stood back up and tried to push the opening wider. Failing that, he shifted his position to use his long legs as leverage to push against the opening. He succeeded in gaining a few more inches. The elevator car arrived and the trio peered in as Nick ran his flashlight efficiently around the interior space. It was awash in the pale blue light that seemed prevalent in the underground city.

"She's not here," Ashley fretted in alarm and moved to enter.

Nick slammed his arm across to block her path. "You don't know where this thing goes to. We need to call for help."

"I know it leads to wherever my little sister is," she glared back. "And we don't have time to wait for the others to get here. Amelia's alone somewhere and I'm not waiting. Now get out of my way."

The opening was not large enough to allow him to enter and he knew without a doubt that she would proceed without him. He also knew that the child had been alone for far too long and could be in serious danger. "Fine," he consented. "But take my backpack. You might need it."

She nodded and grabbed the bag. The otter scurried into the elevator and turned around to squeak impatiently at them. Nick grabbed Ashley's wrist before she could enter. "Be careful," he grimly pleaded. "We'll come as soon as possible. Don't take any unnecessary risks."

"Hey, it's me," she tried to smile. However, no warmth reached her eyes.

"That's what I'm afraid of," he responded wearily.

"We'll be fine," she tried to reassure him with as much bravado as she could muster. "What could go wrong?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "Forget I said that," she added and shoved the backpack into the elevator.

Nick stopped her progress once again by leaning closer so that their faces almost touched. "Be careful," he repeated. "I'll come for you as soon as I can." They stared at one another for a long moment until the fed up otter stuck its snout out and growled at them.

The pair turned matching frowns upon it. "And to think, there was actually a whole litter of him at one time," Ashley snarked.

"Mind boggling, isn't it?" Nick agreed.

The otter, sensing it had been insulted, barred its sharp pointed teeth at them to display his displeasure. Usually his slight overbite was adorable but the sour expression he was wearing ruined the effect. "Okay, okay, I'm coming. Hold your horses," she quipped and grunted as she pulled herself through the tight opening.

Nick waited until the elevator descended and he could no longer see the two before turning tail and racing the other way. As this section of the city hadn't been restored his specially outfitted walkie talkie wouldn't work until he reached the third villa section.

His prediction that the girls' parents would be furious proved to be the case. "What was he thinking, allowing the children to follow them outside the secured perimeter?!" John bellowed with his arms flailing out in anger. He'd been fussing for a good 10 minutes as they made their way to meet up with Nick. He had been able to teleport his companions to the end of the third villa but the rest had to be done on foot. He was unfamiliar with the next section of the city and Helen had insisted they stay together and cover the same area the children had gone before Amelia's disappearance.

"John!" Helen reprimanded with a huff. She was just as irate as him but there were more important things to do… like finding their absent offspring.

"How can you be so calm?" he argued back. "Our children are missing!"

"She's keeping her head on straight to focus on the problem," James shot back with a sidelong glare. He too was getting tired of John's tirade, some of which had been laced with profanity. "You should do the same. Get it together, man!"

"You're just sticking up for your ward," John groused back. "This is all his fault."

"He wasn't the only adult with the children," James defended. "Ashley should have escorted the children back herself."

"Enough!" their female counterpart yelled. "So help me, I'll stun the next person who utters one more word about who's to blame." The two men exchanged challenging glares and clamped their mouths shut. Both knew without a doubt that in her foul mood she'd follow through with her promise.

As they approached the younger man knew from their expressions they were beyond upset. Rightly so. "It's all my fault," he apologized again and waited for the finger pointing to begin.

"No one's blaming you," Helen quickly began, cutting off any accusations John wanted to hurl at the boy. She resisted the urge to kick the father of her children as he muttered "I do" and directed Nick to give a more thorough recap of what had happened.

Afterwards they inspected the elevator opening. "This was not on any of the city maps I've seen in the Library," James mused as he moved the torch light around in the elevator shaft. "Most curious."

"I can't get the opening any wider so I can get inside to call the elevator back up," the miserable young man declared. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration and tapped his foot anxiously. Over 45 minutes had passed since Ashley and the children had descended to who knew where. "The trigger doesn't seem to be located within arm's reach."

"Why bother with the elevator?" John derided. "I can simply teleport down." He glanced down as a hand clamped onto his wrist.

"We don't know what's down there," Helen exclaimed. "You could teleport into solid rock."

"Oh, so now you care about me?" he retorted and tried to pull away. She held fast to his wrist.

"Stop sulking and focus, John. We need to stay together and get to the children. There may be traps along the way. This city was a fortress at one point, remember?"

A loud, put upon sigh interrupted the argument. "If you two are done with your lover's spat I could use some help prying this door open," James declare with a roll of his eyes. Almost two centuries later and they were both still royal pains in his backside. Some things never changed it seemed.

Five stories below an odd pair of shadows made their way down the long empty hallway. One tall and lean, the other short and chubby. Their footsteps echoed eerily against the stone walls and floors. Add in the dim, pale blue lights that flickered on as they made their way and the goosebumps practically danced upon Ashley's skin. This place wasn't anything like any of the spaces she'd visited in the city. This place had an air of being long concealed, as if it were a secret. The fact that the elevator had been so well hidden was proof that this place wasn't meant to be easily found.

And what creeped her out more were the signs that something had been moving about down here recently. She'd been able to discern the small pair of footprints in the dust-laden stone floors that were the right size and shape to be Amelia's. It was the three irregular paw prints with accompanying weird thick lines in the dust as if something was being dragged that worried her. The prints appeared about 100 feet after Amelia's tracks began and then seemed to crisscross them at intersections. "I swear, if there are raptors down here I am so out of this place permanently," Ashley muttered under her breath. "Seriously, what parents in their right minds would think the lost city of Doctor Moreau could serve as a good safe house for children? Oh, right, that would be my nutso parents. I'm starting to understand how they ended up together as a couple."

A whine drifted up to her ears and she glanced down. "Yeah, I'm talking to myself. I do that sometimes when I'm stressed, okay? And will you get off me? It's bad enough I have to wear Nick's hefty pack on my back I am not carrying your dead weight too." At the otter's angry squeaks up at her she rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply you're dead meat. What I meant to say was you weigh a ton and I'm about to drop kick you across the room if you don't remove your nails out of my leg and get off my foot." At the sight of the other tracks the otter had wrapped itself around her left leg and was riding on her left foot much like a child did to a much bigger adult. Ashley had seen Amelia do that very thing to their father a few times and apparently so had the fur ball. "Honestly, of all the people… er creatures… to get stuck with, I get a 'fraidy cat. Why couldn't I have had someone more kick ass, like Henry." She snorted and shook her head. "A werewolf. Now that's someone I want to track side by side with… assuming of course Henry's learned to accept what he is and can control it." She sighed and felt a strong pang of homesickness hit her. Henry. She so missed her big brother, goofy geekness and all. "I guess I won't know anything about that until we can make contact with him again."

A razor sharp nail pierced her thick jeans, causing her to grimace. "Seriously, dude, I will kick you across the room." The creature tightened its hold around her leg and gave a low agitated growl. Ashley stopped and slowly swiveled her head around the space. They'd reach a large antechamber from which four doorways exited. And there were footprints going back and forth between all of them. Including Amelia's. "I see it," Ashley said, absently reaching down with her left hand to stroke the otter's soft head to calm him down. The prints ran askew as if the beings that made them were running from room to room. "She's disoriented," Ashley surmised. "She's confused which direction she's going and is running scared. Poor kid."

Course, that now left her with dilemma. Through which doorway did her little sister go through last? And tracks from whatever was following Amelia seemed to have multiplied. Or else grew extra legs. Crap, Ashley thought. This is not good. Anxiety swelled and she had to release a series of quick, harsh breaths to calm herself down. "Focus," she fussed at herself. "Keep it together. Your four year old little sister is lost and something's tracking her. Figure out which is the freshest track and get a move on it!"

She jumped as a blood curdling scream pierced the air. "Amelia!" she gasped in recognition.

The otter let go of her leg and took off at a run toward the screams. It let out low cries as it ran as if in answer to the screams. The human racing after him silently cursed the heavy pack on her back which Nick carried around as if it weighed nothing. What the heck did he have in that bag anyway? The kitchen sink?

Terrified, Amelia continued to scream as she stared into the tank of murky water that rose up in front of her. The elongated cylindrical tank rose a good 7 feet and was anchored from top and bottom by a thick metal beam that held it in place. The child's heart was beating so fast she began to see little black spots floating before her eyes and she was swaying to her right to collapse when a pair of hands clapped upon her shoulders and spun her around.

"Amelia!" Ashley cried as she kneeled down and cringed as the child's scream invaded her ears at such close proximity. The kid definitely knew how to blow someone's eardrums apart. Seeing that child was unharmed Ashley crushed Amelia into her arms and rubbed up and down on her back to comfort her. "It's alright. I'm here. You're okay. You're okay, I promise." She chanted "You're okay" a few more times and as her eyes watered up she realized for the first time how much this little person had come to mean to her. Sure Amelia was a royal pain in the backside but she was HER royal pain in the backside and she couldn't imagine not having her little sister around anymore. Woah, there's a bit of scary enlightenment she thought.

The otter whimpered as if it were crying too and wrapped its short arms around the younger sister's waist. Ashley shifted one arm to include the otter in her embrace. She needed the pair to calm down and not make so much noise. There was still some unseen thing or things running loose down here. "It's okay," she soothed and rubbed both their backs. "No need to cry. Let's all calm down and hush a little, okay? Let's not make any more loud noises that could alert someone we're here."

"Ashley," snuffled the familiar little voice when its owner finally began to relax a little. Amelia burrowed into her big sister's comforting hold and sobbed against her chest. "I was so scared. I thought the monster was going to get me."

"Monster?" Ashley asked in alarm. "What monster? Did you see it? What did it look like?"

The muffled response of "It's in the water" came with a deep shutter and more burrowing against the older woman's chest.

"Water?" Ashley repeated with a frown. "There wasn't any water…" she began at the same time she had lifted her head to stare before her. At the murky tank she hadn't noticed because she had been too preoccupied with making sure her baby sister was okay. The murky water which seemed to sway faintly as if engaged in some kind of sick dance. The murky water from which a head suddenly emerged into view right in front of her face. Or rather the skull of what had been a human head.

"Holy shit!" Ashley exclaimed with saucer wide eyes.


	72. The Hunted

Chapter 72: The Hunted

The skull wafted eerily before her in the murky water in a macabre dance. Ashley remained frozen in her kneeling position. "What's making the skull move?" she thought to herself and gasped as something slapped against the glass with a muffled thud.

The dark thing twitched and pressed tighter against the glass. "What the…" she began and unconsciously leaned forward for a better look. Her eyes widen further. "Are those… tentacles?" she exclaimed. Another tentacle slapped against the glass on the other side of the bobbing skull. "Ugh!"

Against her chest her sibling tried to burrow further and cried, "Don't let the monster get me, Ashley!"

Her response of "No one's going to get you" was cut short when the skull wafted to the side and a large, dark eel-like face shot forward to peer back at her with demonic yellow eyes. "Holy crap!" she exclaimed.

The little person below her whined, "I want my mummy!"

"Yeah, I want your mummy too," Ashley retorted. "She'd know to make of this disgusting thing." It appeared that each tentacle had three irregular shaped suction cups… which each contained a circular mouth opening framed with short, jagged teeth. She was about to make another rude comment about the creature's hideousness when it dawned on her what she was actually looking at. The creature tilted its head and stared back at her icily as if it too sensed she was catching on to its true identity. Three irregular suction cups on each tentacle. An eel-like head with no mouth. Yellow glowing eyes. Want to bet it could also move around on land Ashley's mind raced as she put the pieces together. The suction cups started moving in opposite directions on the glass… towards the back of the glass enclosure which Ashley felt sure would provide some kind of exit. Surveying the room she noticed that the darker shapes behind the tank indicated the existence of more tanks… and the possibility that more of these eel creatures lurked inside. The blonde jerked upright, nearly knocking her sibling over and announced in a shaky voice, "Time to go, kiddos."

"Home?" Amelia asked hopefully as she took her big sister's left hand.

"That's the plan," Ashley answered and tugged the child back towards the way they had come into the room. The otter scampered ahead of them and they were half way to the antechamber room when he skidded to a stop. His ears flattened back and his head swiveled in a 90 degree arc as he sensed danger.

Ashley slowed down and mimicked the otter. The hairball's sense of hearing and smell were better than hers. If he sensed danger then they were in trouble. Her jaw tensed as he reared back onto his hind legs, fluffed up best he could to look larger, and began to growl. "Not good," she muttered and let go of her sister's hand to reach for her weapon.

"What's wrong?" Amelia whined and shuffled her feet as she leaned into her sister's thigh.

"We're fine," Ashley automatically answered and raised her weapon in preparation. She felt confident that she had enough firepower to blast her way past two or three of the eel creatures. The otter's growl grew louder and he began to slowly step backwards towards them. He kept his focus before him though as if afraid to look away in case of an attack.

She had barely got out the words, "What is it, Puppy?" when she was able to discern movement in the darkened doorways. Three pairs of yellow alien-looking eyes stared back coldly at them. "Crap," she swore under her breath. Alone she could probably take them on without having to completely retreat. Saddled with a pair of terrified four year olds was a whole different matter.

Amelia saw the eyes moments before one of the creatures swayed forward enough to poke its face into the light and opened her mouth to let out a scream.

Her sister's hand clamped across her mouth to muffle the girl's screams. "Quiet!" she hissed. The scream seemed to draw the creatures' attention and the pairs of eyes in the background moved closer. "Everyone back up very slowly," Ashley instructed and took a big step back. When the otter failed to follow she growled, "Come on, fuzz butt, stay with me." He seemed frozen in place with only his head moving in the direction of their opponents' movements. Letting out an impatient huff she released Amelia's hand, lurched forward to grab the otter by the back of his little blue sweatshirt, and yanked him back to her. "I said move!" she commanded as she shuffled them back in the opposite direction.

She kept her eyes on the one creature which slunk forward in time with the number of steps she'd taken back. Height-wise it wasn't much taller than the otter. Its skin was a sickly gray eggplant color and upon closer inspection its eyes were more reptilian than expected. It had one thick trunk-like back tentacle that split at the bottom into two separate narrow, flat flippers that it used to maneuver itself around. It had two front tentacles that served as makeshift arms. They squirmed around like snakes and it was these tentacles that had the teeth-ringed suction cups. The snake arms freaked her out more than the cold calculating eel face with its missing mouth. Ashley's mouth curled back into a grimace. "Okay, that's just plain nasty. I think I'd rather have the raptors."

The two in the darkened hallway stayed out of the light as if waiting for something. That bothered Ashley. Why weren't they advancing like their cohort? She drew the gun back closer and, with her other hand, adjusted the weapon's setting from stun to full power. It would run down the charge faster but the situation called for it. She then trained it back on the advancing eel. The otter was annoyingly pressed back against her legs and she had to resist the urge to kick him out of the way. Combat with children underfoot was going to be a complicated situation. Speaking of children, she should have reached her sister by now.

Before she could turn around to look for the girl a familiar scream caused her to jump and whirl around. Amelia was being pulled backwards by a long suctioned tentacle which had latched onto her little pink backpack. Screaming her big sister's name Amelia kicked and squirmed trying to get free.

"Amelia!" Ashley yelped and rushed forward to aid her. "Let go of the backpack," she ordered and, reaching her, helped the child wrestle free from the backpack, which shot through the air into the clutches of the eel that had snuck up from behind. It was dripping water onto the ground and was larger than the others. It must be the alpha eel Ashley thought as she tucked her sister against her.

Turning sideways quickly she was able to keep an eye on both advancing guards. The smaller one grew bolder after witnessing the attempt to snatch the child and whipped out a tentacle to grab the otter by its tail before it could reach its family. Squealing, the otter scratched at the ground in an attempt to prevent being reeled in. It howled as one of the suction cups bit into its tail.

Cringing as Amelia let out an earsplitting scream, Ashley used her body to block the child from rushing to her playmate's aid. "That does not belong to you, eel face!" Ashley barked and blasted the eel with a perfect shot right between its sallow eyes. The otter skittered free and rejoined its family.

The shot wounded the eel but didn't kill it. It emitted an unearthly low shriek as it fell to the ground that enraged its colleagues. Where that sound came from Ashley didn't know and didn't care. Goosebumps flared up along her arms as fear tried to take hold. Things were about to get really bad. Sure enough, the two eels that had held back slid forward to attack and the alpha tossed the torn backpack aside to join the attack.

The next minutes were a blur as Ashley fired repeatedly at the eels while ushering the children into another hallway. They raced into a large room with metal tables and stools that had all the hallmarks of a lab, complete with numerous tubes and other types of standard lab equipment lying forgotten on the table tops. If she weren't being chased by a pack of homicidal eels she would have had the time to find the whole setup of the room creepy. It was as if people were working here one day and then they left and their equipment lay in wait for their return.

They were a third of the way down the aisle between the tables when she felt herself being pulled backwards. Wildly shooting over her shoulder she struggled to get free from the cursed heavy backpack. She was only able to free her left arm from the backpack. No way was she letting go of the gun to free her right arm. Unable to get a good line of sight on the eel her left hand flailed out for something to use as a weapon and she knocked over one of the metal stools. It hit the ground with a loud crash and its rusted legs came apart. Desperate, she grabbed one and flung her arm back to strike at her attacker. The eel screeched in agony and released its hold on her bag, causing her to unexpectedly slam to a stop atop the bag. Her head banged against something hard and she swore loudly as she slid her right arm through the bag's strap. Scrambling up onto her knees she turned around to fire at the eel and was startled by the fact that it had curled one of its tentacles against itself with its head tucked down to poke at its wound much in the way an animal would lick at a wound.

And quite a wound it had. Its wounded tentacle had developed a strip of blisters similar to a very nasty burn. The strip was a straight elongated line and it took Ashley a long moment before she realized that the shape of discarded metal leg matched the shape of the eel's wound. "Interesting," she muttered and picked up the stool leg again. She was running through the loaded bullets and only had one other cartridge in her jacket pocket. The stunner function would have a very temporary effect. Wheels turning in her mind, she lifted the leg and leaned forward to poke the eel. It recoiled and shrieked again. Her first thought as she stood back up was that the eels were allergic to metal for some odd reason. And she was in a room filled with metal she smirked. Her second thought as it crawled back toward the door where another eel stood menacingly was how the heck it was making those shrieking sounds… unless it was making them through the suction mouths. Ewww. Gross thought.

Tucking her gun into her shoulder holster, Ashley decided to risk testing her theory again. Picking up the other stray stool legs she rushed toward the doorway. The first throw struck its intended target and confirmed her suspicion that metal was the eels' Kryptonite. Her second toss missed but it was enough to encourage the creatures to pull out of the room. Slamming the door shut, she locked it and rested against the door briefly. "Bloody hell," she gasped, repeating the well known phrase she'd heard her mother say over the years whenever she was upset or frustrated. "I'll never eat eel or calamari again. Swear to God. Anything with tentacles is now officially off my diet."

She was galvanizing back into action at the sight of her little sister's pale face staring back at her behind one of the metal tables. The otter, with its green knitted hat askew, peeked out from under her arm.

"It's going to be alright," she tried to reassure her. "Everything's under control." The child's eyes widen as a tentacle snaked up from the gap under the door and wrapped around Ashley's ankle. Gasping, Ashley swung the metal leg down onto the tentacle which shook and quickly released its hold to slide back out the door. "See," she rasped as she stepped out of reach, "nothing to worry about. It's all good." The child seemed to disagree for she disappeared out of sight. The otter followed.

"Everybody's a critic," Ashley grumbled as she set to work flipping over the metal tables to create a maze that would slow the invaders down. The door wouldn't hold for long. The aggressive predators were already back banging against it and trying to knock it open. She froze as the knob twisted several times and gave a sigh of relief when the lock held. The fact that the majority of the sixteen metal stools would not come apart didn't discourage her. There was enough metal in the room to beat the crap out of the four eels she'd seen. And more if they existed. The down side was that she and the kids were trapped inside the room with one exit point – the lone door on which the other side a pack eels were dog piled against. Thankfully it was a thick door which gave her time to get her game plan together. Occasionally a tentacle wiggled underneath and received a good whacking with a metal stool leg.

The lull in time from the earlier attacks had given the children time to calm down. They were still tense but were no longer hiding under a table in the back of the room. They'd discovered a small bathroom in the back of the room and had emerged in better spirits. The plumbing was loud and creaky and surprisingly still functional though the space smelled moldy.

The otter was continuing to fuss over his tail, which sported a nasty circular gash where the teethed suction cup had clamped down. "Oh, stop being such a big baby," Ashley chided as she dug through Nick's backpack looking for the emergency care kit she knew he carried with him. The man's bag was crammed with enough survival gear that she had to wonder if it was a hidden reference to his past. The little she knew about his childhood was that it had been a difficult one and that he'd taken over the role of parent to Lucy when he himself was a mere boy. Her reflections on the Cutter family were dispelled upon a most fortuitous discovery in the back of the bag. Recognizing the polished wooden handle she pulled the item out and an evil grin spread across her face. The handle must have been the hard item she'd hit her head on earlier.

"What's that?" Amelia asked.

"This," her sister gloated as she flipped it over, pulled off the thick plastic cover and touched the button that released the dual blades, "is the coolest double-sided axe I've ever seen." The blades were engraved with a flowery type of writing that she'd never seen before. Nick confessed it had belonged to his father after being grilled about it and had pointed out the section that spelled out his father's name. After lovingly running his finger over that spot he had immediately changed the subject and she hadn't pressed any further. When he was ready to tell her about it he would.

The child's forehead crinkled in confusion. "What's an axe for?"

Carefully moving it around to get the feel of its weight Ashley replied, "For chopping. In this case, tentacles."

"Ewww!" Amelia declared disapprovingly.

"Hey, it's either them or us," Ashley reminded her. Worry clouded over the child's face. "We'll be okay," she declared once again. "Trust me."

The impatient otter nipped at her cuff, earning him a glare from its owner. "Okay, okay, don't get your fur panties in a twist," she muttered and set about treating the otter's tail with an antiseptic wipe, ointment, and a large bandage. She kept her thought that the otter was not going to like having that bandage removed later to herself.

"He doesn't wear panties," Amelia pointed out to the amusement of her older sibling. The munchkin was recovering her spine and spunk. Good, Ashley thought. Better that the girl be her normal spunky self than a weepy, whiny ankle clinger. "Mummy says otters are natural nuddies."

"I think you mean nudists," Ashley corrected. "And lots of animals are. People are the ones who insist on clothing." Meeting the otter's blatant stare she corrected herself. "There are always a few odd exceptions I suppose."

Their heads jerked in the direction of the door. The eels were throwing themselves full at it and Ashley cringed as she heard its frame groan from the assault. "Game time," Ashley muttered under her breath. She stood up and gave the room a final inspection before herding the children to a corner metal cabinet. "Okay, you two," she instructed as she pulled the cabinet door open, "get inside. I need you safely out of the way while I put our attackers out of their misery." Both balked and shook their heads at her. Kneeling down she placed a hand on both and solemnly explained, "Look, I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But the only way we're going to get home safely is if I take care of the eel monsters. You're safer inside where it will be harder for them to get at you."

Amelia's eyes began to tear up. The otter began whining lowly. Ashley switched tactics. "I need you to guard the bag," she shared and motioned her head towards it. "That bag is important to us staying alive. Can you be brave and protect the bag?" she asked them in a theatrical tone.

"Important how?" Amelia asked doubtfully.

"We need everything in there to get home to Mom," Ashley lied. She reached for three of the metal stool legs and shoved one into the otter's arms and two into her sister's. "Protect the bag. If one of the eels tries to steal it you beat the crap out of it with the legs, okay?" The otter looked cross-eyed at the metal leg he held as if he wasn't sure what to do with it. Ashley took it back, whacked a nearby chair and instructed in a measured tone, "Hit the eel. Hit it hard!" She shoved it back into the otter's arms and refocused on her terrified little sister. "Everything will be okay, Amelia. I promise. You just have to be brave, okay?"

"Be brave," the little girl repeated with trembling bottom lip.

Ashley squeezed her little shoulder. "You can do it. You're a Magnus. Being brave is part of who we are."

"It is?" Amelia squeaked in surprise.

"Yep," came the confident reply. "One thing our family is is brave." She held her tongue on the other descriptive terms that applied to their family – crazy, stubborn and sometimes suicidal being at the top of that list.

"The bad monster took my bag," Amelia said with a frown. She was slowly moving from the stunned horrified stage towards the outraged stage that was another family trait. "I want it back."

"I'll get your bag back," Ashley promised. The trio jumped as the door groaned louder under the ongoing assault and the bottom corner cracked. Tentacles snaked through and felt for a way to remove the door obstacle. "Inside," Ashley hissed and ushered the two minors into the cabinet. She shoved the bag inside in front of the kids and made sure they had their weapons at the ready before slamming the cabinet shut. Pushing the sight of their terrified faces out of her mind she whirled around and arranged the unbroken stools in front of the cabinet two deep. The eels were going to have to get past several layers of metal before they could get to the children. Then, taking a deep breath, she firmly gripped the metal leg in her left hand and the double headed axe in her right. It was time to kick some ugly eel butt.


	73. The Hunter

Chapter 73: The Hunter

What followed next were the longest moments of their short little lives. Huddle together in the darkness behind the backpack, Amelia and the otter listened to the slightly muffled loud crashes, unnatural shrieks of agony, and other sounds of ongoing battle.

"I want mummy and daddy," Amelia whined. The otter whined in agreement. The noises got closer and her hands curled tighter around the pair of metal legs. "Hit the eel. Hit it hard!" she chanted softly and tapped the legs on the bag in time to her chant. The otter followed her example and softly squeaked his own type of chant.

More time flew by and Amelia began to get antsy. Part of her wanted to hide behind the bag forever while another part of her wanted to burst out of the darkness. Outside the door the sounds of metal screeching and being tossed aside were coupled with the hideous shrieks of the furious eels. The children's heartbeats and breaths ratcheted up as it dawned on them that the eels were in front of the cabinet.

Ashley's concentration was interrupted by a familiar scream behind her. Swearing loudly, she turned to race to the cabinet when a tentacle wrapped itself around her left foot and yanked her down.

Two rows back, the cabinet door had been yanked open and the alien face of the largest eel rose up into view. Letting out a scream Amelia began wildly swinging the legs in front of her. "Hit! Hit! Hit!" she yelled as she pressed herself as far down behind the bag as possible. The eel ripped the metal leg from the child's left hand and discarded it into the air. Its second attempt was less successful as the child delivered a direct blow to a front tentacle. The other front tentacle snaked sideways trying to grab the otter, who was valiantly dodging the attempts by striking out with his metal leg while hissing.

Both tentacles managed to grab hold of the pair of metal legs and the children were unable to wrestle free from the creature's grasp despite the angry blisters that began appearing immediately on its tentacles. Its hideous face wiggled forward to stare coldly at its prey. Amelia was in mid scream when the eel reared up suddenly and released its hold on the legs, causing the children to fall backward and bump against the back of the cabinet. The creature collapsed onto the floor, its shriek escalating to ear splitting level. It twisted its upper torso around to look upon the detached back tentacle that had been brutally sliced off.

From behind the backpack Amelia's eyes popped open to find Ashley standing before the wounded eel. Her right hand gripped the blood splattered axe and her face was hardened. "Back off, ugly," she growled. "And pick on someone your own size." The child's mouth dropped open as she watched the ensuing confrontation. The creature's tentacles attacked viciously. Ashley's axe returned in kind.

Afterwards, the exhausted blonde abruptly sat down upon the edge of an overturned table. Her chest heaved heavily as she gulped for air and her arms lowered by her side. The axe slid from her hand to fall with a metallic clank onto the stone floor. She was sweating like a pig and she felt distinctly yucky. Her person was splattered with eel guts and blood. "Uh, I need a bath," she groaned. As her adrenaline levels began to peter out she looked back at the pair of faces peering out at her with their mouths still hanging open Ashley let out a loud sigh. The otter's eyes were fairly bugged out and his fur was puffed up to give his head the appearance that it was much larger than normal. Great. She'd just traumatized the kids for life. Her mother was going to totally flip out. And no telling how baldy was going to react either. "Hey," she weakly smiled. The kids continued to stare back at her silently. Yep, she'd definitely warped them for life.

She grimaced as the throbbing pain in her left calf area demanded proper attention. Looking down at the ripped jean above her leather boots her face clouded over at the sight of the bleeding wound from one of the eel's teethed, circular mouths. Hopefully the thing wasn't rabid or venomous the blonde thought with a sigh. Pushing herself up onto a pair of wobbly legs she carefully made her way to the cabinet and squatted down to eye level with her younger siblings. "Are you okay? No injuries?"

There was a long pause before Amelia slowly shook her head. She continued to remain silent.

"That's good," Ashley replied and racked her brain for what else to say. Dealing with kids was not something she was good at. "Well, um…" she glanced at herself and thought perhaps her appearance was part of the problem. "I need to wash up. I have eel cooties."

That last comment seemed to snap Amelia awake. "You're gross," she said, wrinkling up her little pert nose. "And stinky."

"Yeah," Ashley agreed and pulled the large pack from the cabinet. Placing it on top of the counter in a spot not splattered with eel guts she squatted back down with gritted teeth against the shooting pain in her leg and held out her hands. "Come on. Let's wash up and get out of this place." Amelia hesitated until prompted by her big sister's "It's me, kiddo. I won't let anything happen to you. Or the furball."

Ashley grunted as she lifted the four year old out. "You're getting way too big to carry around."

"That's what daddy says," Amelia said. "I think he's wrong."

Ashley chuckled at that. One thing her little sister had was spunk. She placed her down away from the eel mess and turned back to collect the otter. He was still obviously spooked for he huddled next to his playmate and glanced nervously around. "Don't look at the mess," she encouraged as she grabbed the pack and herded them toward the bathroom. "While I'm washing up you might consider going to the bathroom again. No telling when the next time we'll have access to a working toilet." Staring at her messy reflection in the mirror she released another sigh. Some things never change… like getting disgusting abnormal guts splattered on herself during battle.

Silently thanking Nick once again for insisting that she take his backpack Ashley pulled out the first aid kit and proceeded to clean her wound. It was deeper than she had originally thought. She wrapped it the best she could, resisted the urge to administer a shot of morphine from the two small vials in the kit, and popped a couple of ibuprofen pills instead, washing them down with water from the half filled water bottle from Nick's pack. She handed it to the kids to sip from and set about cleaning herself up. Midway through scouring the inky mess off her leather jacket and jeans she became aware that she was the focus of the children's attention. "What? Do I have eel guts in my hair?" she asked and then snorted. "Of course I do. Ugh. I need a shower so bad."

"Ashley," Amelia inquired with a serious expression on her little face, "Are you a ninja?"

Ashley burst out laughing. "And how do you know about ninjas, hmm?" she wondered with amusement.

"Ninja turtles," the child replied. "Puppy and I watch that cartoon on tv sometimes. They fight with swords though, not an axe." She looked at the cleaned off axe that leaned against the base of the sink by her sister's foot before returning her gaze to Ashley. "So, are you a ninja?"

Ashley grinned. "Let's just say I know a few moves. Martial arts training is a requirement for surviving in this family." She retrieved the empty water bottle and refilled it from the sink. The bottle's filtering system would clear any pollutants in the water she hoped. She was doing an awful lot of hoping on this journey through underground city hell.

"Will you teach me? I want to be a ninja too," Amelia asked seriously. The otter gave a meep in agreement. He was still clutching his metal chair leg that he'd picked up and the sight of him in his little lace sweatshirt with big ears poking out of his knitted hat caused the older woman to laugh. The sound of her laughter was contagious and pushed away the lightened the mood, if only briefly.

"And why do want to be a ninja, young lady?" Ashley teased as she tossed the stained rag into the sink and placed her hands on her hips. "The pay's not so great, trust me."

"I want to kick bad monster butt too," the child exclaimed with a nod. "Like you."

"I see," she said, bending down to heft the pack onto her shoulders. "But I am not a ninja. I'm more of the hunter variety. It's sort of my thing. I'm sure Uncle James will get around to starting your training soon enough. I was six when he began teaching me."

"Really?"

"Uh huh," Ashley shared. "Everyone who lives and works in the Sanctuary learns self defense." She smirked down at the otter. "You, I'm not sure what James is going to come up with. Your little T-Rex arms are a bit short for karate chops." The raspberry sound the insulted otter aimed up at her perked her up further. There was no way the otter understood the T-Rex reference but he did understand the tone of her comment.

"Does that mean mummy is a hunter too?"

"She's uh… a lot of things. I guess part ninja is kinda accurate." She picked up her axe and handed one metal chair leg to the child before picking up the remaining one.

"What else is she?" Amelia demanded as she and the otter followed Ashley out of the bathroom.

Frowning, Ashley pondered the question. "Um, well, she's a mother. She loves animals…" she smirked down at the otter. "… the weirder the better." He scrunched up his snout to stick his tongue out at her. "She's a… doctor…"

"And a mad scientist?" Amelia offered helpfully.

Surprised, Ashley halted. "Where'd that come from?"

"Daddy. I heard him tell Uncle James that mummy likes to play mad scientist with someone named Teslee."

"Tesla," Ashley corrected and shrugged. "Eh. It's a possibility. Mom does like to poke about in the lab. Tesla is crazy enough to qualify for mad scientist. Together I guess they could like playing Frankenstein in the lab, which is a truly, truly disturbing thought." Really disturbing, particularly given their father's implication that Tesla had a crush on Helen. And with that last thought I am completely skeeved out the blonde thought with a shudder.

The trio carefully made their way down the hall in the direction that they had originally arrived. Ashley retrieved her sister's backpack and was rewarded with a most grateful smile as the child slipped it on her back. The front pocket had been torn and its contents were strewn across the floor. Pieces of a plastic trinket bracelet, a miniature stuffed cat whose stuffing had been pulled out, and a pair of knitted gloves littered the dusty stone floor. The eel had tried to eat the box of crayons and then tossed it aside once it had decided they weren't edible. The crayons were broken and covered with an inky, sticky substance that Ashley surmised was eel drool. Ick.

At the child's forlorn look down at her favorite crayons Ashley wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "We'll buy you a new box of crayons when we go home. You know how much mom likes to shop." She reached down and picked up the gloves, tapped them together to loosen the dust, and handed them to the child.

"I want a new coloring book too," Amelia piped up as she tucked the gloves into the pockets of her pink warm up suit.

"I want new boots," Ashley declared as she looked down at the blotches of stains created by the eel's blood which wouldn't come out despite a rough scrubbing with water and a rag. "These are never going to be the same."

"My hat," the child exclaimed, clapping her hands to her head suddenly to feel around for the missing item. "My hat's gone." A quick survey of the area turned up no hat.

Faint movement in the direction of the hallway that led back to the elevator caught the older sister's attention. Concentrating, she made out pinpoints of yellow that she knew without a doubt was the alien eyes of more abnormal eels. Lifting the axe in her right hand she cut off the child's insistence that they look for her hat and mentally calculated the best method of exit.

The otter caught on to the nearby danger and began growling lowly in its throat which in turn alerted the child that something was wrong. She pressed herself closer to her big sister. "Ashley," she whimpered.

"We'll be fine," Ashley repeated what was becoming the catch phrase of the day. "Very carefully back up and walk slowly back towards the lab." No yellow eyes were visible in that direction. The ones she could see before them kept their distance. For now. Perhaps they could smell the dead remains of their compatriots. There has to be another way to the upper floors Ashley thought. She was right. After fifteen minutes of exploring the halls and rooms beyond the lab she discovered a door to a stairwell. Pulling out the flashlight from Nick's bag of endless supplies she examined the stairwell with the torchlight the best she could before ushering her family in. Onward and upward towards home she hoped as she slammed the door behind them.

Her foot was in midair about to step onto the second floor landing when she heard the door below squeak open. "Go," she whispered and tapped Amelia's bottom to encourage the girl to move faster. The otter wasted no time hustling up the steps ahead of them. Reaching the third floor she paused briefly to lean over the railing and gauge her opponents' location. Two pairs of yellowed eyes one floor below. Another set half a floor below that. Joy she grumbled and started up the next set of flights. The throbbing in her leg hadn't lessened and she was cursing the pills to hurry up and do their job of relieving her pain.

A few minutes later she was gasping for air against the door at the top of the stairwell and unhappy to find the door locked. "Figures," she grumbled and handed the flashlight to Amelia. "Hold the light still while I search the bag. If we're lucky Nick's lock picking kit is inside."

"What if it's not?" Amelia asked worriedly as she poised the torchlight down onto the bag.

"First things first," Ashley replied breathlessly. "Let's make sure the kit's not here before we panic." Please, please be here she prayed. She wasn't near as adept with lock picking as he or James was but she could do it given time. Time, of course, wasn't something they had at the moment. If all else failed she could shot the lock off but then she would run the risk of the bullet accidently ricocheting off and hitting one of them. "Ah ha!" she cried triumphantly and pulled out the familiar, weathered camel leather case that had once belonged to her uncle, otherwise known as the legendary Sherlock Holmes.

"They're getting near," Amelia whimpered as the sounds of the eels slinking up the stairs sounded closer. Much closer.

Untying the case, Ashley laid it flat across the backpack, which was lying on the floor in front of the door. She then took the torch from her sister, aimed its light down over the railing and shot at the nearest eel below. A ghost of a smile flittered across her face as she heard the shriek of pain before she re-holstered the weapon. "Yeah, I'm that good," she preened softly. Picking up a metal stool leg, she banged on the railing to create a metallic noise to put the creatures on notice that she was armed and ready to beat the snot out of them. That done, she turned back to the lock picking kit, selected what she thought would work best and set to work.

"I wanna learn how to open locks too," Amelia decided as she watched her sister wiggling the tool in the lock.

"Duly noted," came the terse reply. Dang it, James and Nick made this look a lot easier than it actually was. It had been a while since she'd had to do it herself. Screw it, she was about ready to risk shooting the lock off she sourly thought.

Below, the otter was seated by the bag and was staring intently down the stairs. His mouth curled back to bare his fangs as a pair of yellow eyes appeared about fifteen steps below, on the next landing. A growl issued forth in warning. It was a warning to the human above him and the creature below him.

"I'm almost there," Ashley grumbled back. She tapped the tiny hammer against the tool and breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of the lock releasing. "About freakin' time."

The otter's growls grew more ferocious and Ashley rolled her eyes in annoyance. These stupid eels just don't give up she thought as she blew out a sigh and stood up. Her knees groaned in response and stiffly she pulled the door open. "Inside," she instructed. "Stay close by." The children quickly scuttled through, eager to get away from the creature stalking closer. The bag was shoved inside after them.

Turning, Ashley looked down at her pursuer with an angry, cold expression. The eel was perched three steps down and it was apparent that the creature was about to launch itself at her. She swung the metal stool leg back and forth in her left hand and was pleased that the eel's eyes followed its movement. "Come on, you ugly mother," she taunted. There was a short pause and then it launched itself at her. One tentacle reached for the metal and the other… failed to stop the bullet Ashley had fired directly into its right eye. It shrieked in agony and flew backward, striking the wall and barreling down the stairs into the darkness. "Never mess with a Magnus unless you want to die," Ashley savagely spat out. With that, she spun on her heel, exited the stairwell and slammed the door behind her. It clicked as the door was locked on the other side.

Down below a faint bell dinged as the elevator car arrived. The door slid open and cautiously four tall figured emerged. Dim, pale blue lights flickered on as the group moved further into the hallway. Brighter beams of light swept around the room in search of signs of their owners' missing family members. Quietly they made their way forward down the hall. "These look like they could be Ashley's," Helen said, pointing to some footprints leading from the elevator. She swept her torch over the smaller ones next to them and then frowned as they seemed to completely disappear from sight. "These look like they could be Puppy's but…" her voice trailed off. The concern was evident in her tone.

"These," James interrupted, "are not Ashley's or Puppy's." Pointing his flashlight down he added, "I don't want to alarm anyone but I don't think these are human."

"What?!" echoed around him.

"What made them?" John demanded, pulling out his knife and glared around them for signs of an attacker.

"If I knew that, you git, I'd have told you," James shot back testily.

Nick stepped in between the two men and positioned his light in a calculated motion. "Whatever it was, it had friends. And I think they were stalking Ashley and the otter."


	74. Hot on the Trail

Chapter 74: Hot on the Trail

"What made them?" John demanded, pulling out his knife and glared around them for signs of an attacker.

"If I knew that, you git, I'd have told you," James shot back testily.

Nick stepped in between the two men and positioned his light in a calculated motion. "Whatever it was, it had friends. And I think they were stalking Ashley and the otter."

Helen's head snapped towards the younger man. "What do you mean they were stalking Ashley and Puppy?" Her eyes followed the sweeping motions of Nick's flashlight as he moved his torch about to show how the irregular paw prints with accompanying weird thick lines came together from different spots in the hallway to form a collective mob.

"Proceed with caution," James instructed as he un-holstered his weapon and flipped the safety off. "Helen and I will take the forward. John, watch the left. Nick, you flank our right." Silently they took their appointed positions and moved forward in the same direction as the prints. Ahead the archway into a larger room was visible. Daring a brief glance in Helen's direction James observed her tight, drawn face and bit down on the inside corner of his bottom lip. If anything happened to those children Helen would be devastated. And John's reaction would be even worse if he were to lose the family he waited so long to be reunited with. Giving his head a little shake Watson refocused his attention before him. Deal with the here and now old man he scolded himself. Hypothetical problems of the future are a waste of time and precious grey cells.

They reached a large antechamber from which four doorways exited. The dust on the stone floor was kicked up everywhere to partially obscure the mass of prints scattered about the floor, making it difficult to discern which direction the prints were last headed. Helen's eyes zeroed on the colored items tossed about the far side of the room and she hurried towards them in disregard of the possibility that unknown creatures might be lurking nearby. Bending down for a closer look she let out an audible gasp as her eyes enlarged with recognition. Reaching for the pieces of what had once been a plastic trinket bracelet the alarmed mother picked up the little mermaid figurine and held it up.

"Helen, what is it…," John's voice trailed off as he recognized what she was holding. "Amelia." His throat tightened and he desperately looked around in search for the bracelet's little owner.

Unable to speak, his partner collected a ruined miniature stuffed cat nearby that was a favorite of her adopted otter. "My babies," Helen silently wailed. "My precious babies."

"Let's not jump to the wrong conclusions," James interrupted. "A few damaged toys and crayons does not mean the children have been harmed." He was going to have to be the voice of reason to counter the parental despair of his colleagues if they were to get through this journey in one piece.

"What is this disgusting substance?" John frowned as he leaned down to touch the inky liquid that coated his youngest's broken crayons.

Helen's arm shot out to stop him. "Don't touch it! We don't know what it is."

"Whatever it is there's more of it over here," James stated as he stalked away from them towards one of the doorways. "It's thicker here." As he scanned the wall by the arched doorway the pattern of the inky splatter caused his jaw to set tightly. This splatter is similar to blood splatter from a gunshot he thought grimly. Chips in the wall's surface also alluded to gunfire. He sniffed the air but could make nothing out save for the musty, stifled air that permeated the place. What a miserable place to get lost in Watson thought. Had Ashley not been in earlier pursuit of his youngest godchild James would have been beside himself like the child's parents. However, he had trained Ashley himself and if anyone could track and protect Amelia it was her big sister.

Tucking the two small toys into her coat pocket Helen stood back up. Spine straightened and chin firmly set she took a second to reorient herself before moving determinedly toward the doorway opposite of the toys. Her children were lost down here and she was going to find them… unharmed. She caught John's eye, nodded towards the doorway next to the one she was about to enter, and received a silent nod of confirmation before he disappeared in that direction.

A few minutes later she reemerged with shoulders slightly sagged. The room was empty save for abandoned furniture and the odd prints in the floor. One eyebrow shot up at the sight of James bent slightly at the waist carefully stalking around the antechamber with his torch. Throw a deerstalker on his head, replace the gun in his hand with a magnifying glass and the slim, elegant man was the image of a modern Sherlock Holmes. A rather sexy clad in leather and wool Sherlock Holmes she thought wickedly with an upturn of the corner of her lip. But never mind that now. Turning, she went in search of her children's absent father. What was keeping him?

John found himself frozen in place before an elongated cylindrical tank that rose a good 7 feet tall in the center of the room he had entered. Anchored from top and bottom by a thick metal beam that held it in place the tank was filled with murky water. Behind it were the dark shapes of at least five other similar tanks. The big man's breath was coming out in ragged measure. In his mind's eye he was no longer standing in this dusty room but in a series of other grisly laboratories containing similar, though shorter, experimentation tanks. They were nightmare memories of the past rearing up like the hooded heads of cobras striking him straight through the heart. The memories were painted in a swath of red… blood red. They were the memories of the monster he had once been. Of Jack… on his gleeful murderous rampage through the hidden strongholds of the Cabal as he sated his lust for blood using the anger of a father who had lost his only child. It was the lingering memories of Jack whose imprisonment of the big man would forever haunt John's dreams. His breath quickened as he recalled how easy it had been to dissolve into the monster that was Jack while on his crusade to destroy every vestige of the Cabal he could find. And now here he was again. Standing in another experimental laboratory in a hidden fortress with his child… correction, his _children_… missing and out of reach. He could feel the anger surging through his body, making its way to his pounding head. Instinctively his hands clenched and his head turned to stare down at the knife held at attention in his right hand. The knife's sharp blade gleamed in the beam of light shining from the flashlight held in his other hand. The knife's blade was clean.

"John." The name vaguely, distantly invaded his mind. It was repeated with more urgency. Louder. Closer by. Looking up, the giant of a man beheld the woman he'd loved for over a century. She was standing out of reach. Her sapphire blue eyes large in her face pale. Trepidation apparent in those lovely orbs he so adored. "John!" she hesitantly repeated and was visibly relieved when he blinked and finally seemed to acknowledge her presence.

"Helen," he whispered and let out a long, deep cleansing breath. The pressure in his head began to lessen as his breathing started to slow to a more normal rate.

She didn't move closer. "Are you alright?"

"No," he growled, snapping out of his foggy state. His arms swept out towards the tanks. "Why didn't you tell me this was a Cabal stronghold?! I would never have agreed to our family coming here if I had known this place was tainted by their filth."

"It wasn't. It's not," she stuttered as she stared in horror at the tanks. "There was no mention of the Cabal or anything like the Cabal in any references to this city. I swear it."

"Then what the bloody hell is all this?" he accused with a wave of his hands.

"I don't know," she retorted with a crisp edge to her tone. Annoyance was beginning to replace the fear she felt earlier upon finding John in a trance-like state staring at the knife in his hand the way he used to when he was possessed by the energy elemental known as Jack. "We can figure this out later." She stepped closer. "The only thing that matters right now is finding our children." Moving closer to stand in front of him she stared intently into his eyes. "We can talk about what's going on with you when our offspring are safely tucked in their beds safe and sound."

His jaw twitched and he was about to deny anything was wrong when he felt her soft, smooth hand alight onto his neck and slid up to cup his cheek. "I thought you were mad at me," he rumbled lowly as he leaned into her warmth.

"Montague John Druitt, I have been mad at you… and mad about you… for over a century," she replied in frank earnest. "Why should now be any different?"

The corners of his eyes crinkled as his eyes softened at her surprising confession. She alone was the one person in this world who could bring him to his knees with a look or touch. "I hate it when you're angry with me," he admitted before he could stop himself.

She gave his cheek a squeeze. "I know." Helen stepped back as he bowed his head to go in for a kiss. "Later… when we've found Ashley and Amelia… and are in a more suitable setting." They glanced back at the tank with matching frowns. "And we're still going to talk about what's bothering you too so don't think you're off the hook, mister."

"You are nothing if not tenacious, madam," he dryly retorted.

She flashed him a cheeky smirk. "You happen to love that about me, good sir. After all, it was I who kissed you first all those years ago at the dance when you couldn't get the nerve up to do it first."

"That is so not what happened," he denied knowing full well that was exactly what happened.

"What is this?" a sharp, familiar voice interrupted.

The couple turned to acknowledge Watson's arrival. "We don't know," Helen answered as he came to stand beside them. "Based on the work room next door I'd hazard a guess that this place was some sort of secret laboratory. The purpose of which is yet unknown."

"No sign of the children?" James inquired as he did a quick survey around the main tank. Helen and John followed his lead by inspecting the tanks further back.

"No," John growled.

"A few of the prints look like they belonged to Puppy and Amelia. That's good. That means they met up at some point. However, there far too many scuffled prints in the ground to be certain how long they were here," Helen added. "Hopefully Ashley is with them."

"Speaking of children," James said as he rounded the tank and rejoined his friends, "have you seen Nick?"

Helen and John exchanged worried glances. "No. We thought he was with you," John answered.

James sighed. "Great. Another child misplaced. This day is turning out to be a royal pain in the arse." He turned back towards the door.

"I'm sure he's fine," Helen assured him as she followed.

"He'd better be," James snorted. "Otherwise his little sister will never let me hear the end of it." Returning to the antechamber they made their way towards the fourth unexplored hallway. "I don't suppose you've run across whatever it is that's leaving those odd prints on the ground?"

"No," John shook his head. "Perhaps they're gone."

"More likely dead," James declared as they approached the doorway and he pointed to the dark splatters on the wall and chips of stone littered on the floor.

"You think something killed whatever was padding around down here?" Helen asked as she readjusted the weapon in her hand and looked about. The longer they lingered here the more disconcerting she found it. There was something distinctly sinister about the place.

"I think _someone _did pest management control down here," James stated solemnly as they came upon a dark, dead form sprawled across the ground just inside the doorway, "and I suspect that someone was Ashley."

"What the world is that?" Helen voiced what her companions were thinking. She took in the elongated head, the sickly gray eggplant color of its lumpy skin, and the vacant yellow eyes that stared up at nothing. Strange yellow eyes that was reminiscent of a reptilian descendent. "Is it a… eel?"

"How many eels do you know have teeth in their tentacles?" John said with a furrowed brow. "Come to think of it, how many eels have tentacles? This thing is like a monster mash from one's nightmare."

Kneeling, Helen inspected the creature. "I've never seen anything like this," she said in an awed tone. "One of its tentacles is split at the bottom into flat feet like flippers."

"The better to move about on land," James suggested with a wrinkled nose. The creature's stench assaulted his senses to the point that he had to whip out a handkerchief to cover his nose.

"What makes you think Ashley did this?" John demanded.

"Bullet hole between the eyes," Helen answered as she inspected the dark hole in the creature's head. "The skin around the hole is scorched."

"Good to know my goddaughter is maintaining her shooting skills," James remarked approvingly. "Makes a godfather proud."

"Then you'll be positively aglow with familial pride," a sarcastic voice contributed. Three heads swiveled his way followed by startled jerks.

"A little warning would be nice before you do that!" John exclaimed with a sharp shake of his head at the young man.

"Says the man who pops in and out in a cloud of red fog like the devil," the lad retorted.

Helen, realizing she was staring at the boy with open mouth, clamped her lips together and stood back up. It was the first time she had seen Nick in his alternate state and she had to admit it was a bit eerie.

James, who had known him since he was a boy, was unphased by the change in his appearance. "What did you find?"

Nudging his head in the direction behind him, Nick replied, "A lot of those things. Slaughtered in a laboratory with its door ripped from its frame."

"Show me," Helen demanded, going into concerned mother mode.

"Any sign of Ashley or Amelia?" John anxiously inquired.

Nick paused. "Not exactly."

"What does that mean?" Helen asked sharply.

The boy exhaled a sigh. "You'd better follow me," he said, leading the way down the hall.

At the rear of the group James glanced at his best friend with a smirk. "Your classmates at one time were the Invisible Man and a vampire. And you think Nick's appearance is more alarming? Really?"

"It's creepy," John whispered back grumpily. "Don't tell me it's not disconcerting."

Watson shrugged. "You get used to it. Like how I got used to your ugly mug."

"Ha ha," the bigger man groused back. He didn't care what James said. The boy's altered appearance was creepy.

"I can hear you, you know," came a grumpy comment from the front of the group, causing James to grin. The boy was such a serious lad.

Between them the lone female figure rolled her eyes. I am surrounded by idiots she thought to herself. What she saw in the laboratory Nick led her to caused her anxiety level to escalate. "Oh my God," she gasped as she took in the sight of what appeared to be a massacre. Broken bits of furniture lay discarded throughout the room.

Behind her John let out a cry of anguish and pushed his way into the room. The room was trashed and the dark sticky substance that he realized was the blood of the unknown creatures was splattered everywhere. Stomping through the space he counted ten deceased forms strewn about. No sight of the children however. He stopped at the back of the room and stared down at the largest of the creatures lying dead near a section of metal cabinets. It was larger than any of the others and its thick back tentacles lie three feet away from the rest of its body. The weapon that had cut off the tentacle was nowhere in sight.

"Interesting," murmured Watson, who had kneeled down to inspect the area. "The metal legs of the old stools have been broken off and scattered throughout the room. I wonder." He ignored the questioning glances of his companions and backtracked his way towards the entrance.

Helen, meanwhile, bent down to inspect another dark stain across from the cabinets. Very quickly she knew what it was and her heart clenched. Blood. Human blood.

Glancing up she saw that Nick was staring at her with a clenched jaw. He recognized it too. "There's a trail…" he explained and motioned from her location to the cabinets and then around to the side. "…To the bathroom." He intercepted her as she rushed toward the room. "Helen," he said tightly in a raspy voice, "… there's quite a bit of it."

She brushed past him and tried to steel herself for the visual evidence that one or more of her offspring had been harmed. She could feel John's large form trailing her. Together the dazed parents paused in the doorway of the small restroom. There was a dried trail of blood on the floor, some of it smeared with partial boot prints imprinted over. Smaller prints were visible. In one bloody splotch the otter's paw print was clearly discernible. "Dear Lord," John muttered. He was paler than normal and agitatedly ran his hand through his hair as he tried to get his emotions under his control. He had worked so hard for so long to have the family he always wanted. It couldn't end this way, it just couldn't.

Helen walked into the small space and stopped at the sink to stare down at a bloodied rag. Discarded on the floor were several individual bandage wrappers and a larger gauze wrapper. Clearly someone had patched themselves up. Helen hoped fervently that it had been Ashley who had sustained the injury and not Amelia. Disgust at herself instantly settled in, causing her to feel like a hypocrite. It wasn't that she thought her oldest deserved the injury more, but rather that Ashley was stronger and more resilient than little Amelia. One thing she knew for certain about Ashley was that the girl was a survivor. She was her parents' child, for better or worse. And that instinct for survival was the key to the children's ongoing safety. She trusted Ashley, had faith in her firstborn's ability to make good decisions that would get her through a dangerous situation. The trio had left this terrible place, which meant that Ashley was still mobile and able to guide them towards home. The trail of blood had not been visible at the entrance of the room so the patches on the wounds were holding. Closing her eyes, Helen sent up a silent prayer for her children's safety. "Please, please take care of my babies," she silently chanted.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she slid hers up to cover it. "They're okay," John tried to assure her, though his own voice was shaky in its delivery. "They have to be."

A head popped through the doorway and looked around. "No metal," James said with a sniff. "As I expected." The couple turned as one to stare at him with confused looks on their faces. "There are two metal legs missing. Ashley must have held onto them when they left."

"Metal legs don't explain how that bigger eel's back tentacle was chopped off," Helen pointed out.

"No, but my father's double sided axe was in my pack," Nick contributed over his mentor's shoulder. "The axe would have been sharp enough to cut through the creature's thick appendage."

"So Ashley has the axe and two metal chair legs," James recapped with a little nod. "That's reassuring."

"No, that is not reassuring," John argued with a frown. "Reassuring would be the children standing in front of us unharmed."

"It is reassuring," Helen countered, feeling a small flutter of hope blossoming inside. "It means Ashley has alternative weaponry. She's run through a lot of her gun's firepower. If it hasn't run out of bulletins yet it will soon enough."

"Precisely," Watson agreed. "Our girl's holding her own. That's what counts."

The reassuring words lifted John from his morose mood and he gratefully gave his old friend a small smile. "Yes, you're right."

"Shall we?" Nick motioned to laboratory's destroyed doorway. "I don't think there's much left here for us to discover."

"Right you are, my boy," James said, clapping his ward on the back as he passed. "Lead the way, if you please."


	75. Around the Campfire 1

Chapter 75: Around the Campfire 1

The whine of "I'm tired" was ignored as the distracted blonde plotted their next move. The course she had chosen might be a bit reckless but it was the path she thought would get them home quickest. Inside the city they kept getting turned around in the maze of connected rooms and stairwells only to find themselves moving further away from the section of the city that had been renovated for comfortable habitation. So here they were, out in the open, standing outside on one of the lower terraces and about to climb over the mid-waist wall to get onto the next level terrace. Sitting down on the edge of the retaining wall, Ashley stared up glumly at the number of terraces they would have to scale to reach the mid-level section. If they could reach that area they could set off the perimeter alarms which would alert their family to their location. Pausing to close her eyes and take a deep breath, she found herself wishing once more for some stronger pain killer. Her leg was throbbing and she debated taking more ibuprofen pills. She jumped as a loud "Ashley! I'm tired!" was squawked from below followed by an angry stomping of little feet.

The tart reprimand on the tip of her tongue evaporated as she looked down at the bedraggled pair pouting up at her. Exhaustion was apparent in Amelia's small face and the child looked close to tears. The otter meanwhile flopped onto the dusty stone floor belly up, tilted its face to the side, closed its eyes, and let its tongue hang out. It was literally playing dead to convey how tired it was.

"You are such a drama queen," Ashley remarked with a shake of her head. One ice blue eye opened to stare at her and then closed again. "We're not even half way home yet, fuzz butt. You're going to have to suck it up and carry on."

"I don't wanna carry on," Amelia whined. "I'm tired and I'm hungry." She rubbed at her eyes and sniffled loudly as large tears started to fall. "I want my mummy and daddy."

"Oh, hey," Ashley said, wrapping an arm around her younger sibling, "there's no need for tears. Everything's going to be fine." Her rumbling stomach disagreed. "Although food would be good."

"Uh, huh," Amelia agreed. The otter, hearing the word food, scuttled up to sit upright and stare at the pair expectantly.

"I don't suppose you have anything in your backpack," Ashley asked hopefully. "Everything I had is in my backpack back with Nick."

The child's eyes widen and a little smile blossomed on her lips. "Yeah, I do. Lucy put some treats in my bag." Sliding the purple pack off her shoulders Amelia unzipped it and thrust an arm inside to rummage around. "Ah ha!" she cried in triumphant and pulled out a brown paper lunch sack. At the sight of the bag the otter squealed excitedly and waddled over to tug onto the child's pink jacket. The child's face fell as she discovered the large hole at the bottom of the sack. Its contents were long gone with only a residue of eel drool remaining. "Ewww," Amelia frowned and tossed the bag away. "The bad monsters ate my lunch!" Zipping her bag up the child sighed and looked forlorn.

"Figures," Ashley muttered. She glanced around for inspiration, eventually focusing on the distant view of the nearby river. The second terrace up was wide enough to come close to the riverbank. Each terrace was of different width, with the widest giving access to the riverbank and what would be lush and dense landscaping during the summer months. It was late fall and most of the landscaping was barren. "Huh," she muttered to herself. She'd have to get closer to see if the path from the terrace to the water was unobstructed. They might also be able to find shelter along the riverbank if there were any shallow caves or crevices available. The city might offer better shelter but it also offered that shelter to abnormal creatures that could be deadly. Protecting the children might be easier by the water than in the city. In all the months she'd lived here they'd discovered no dangerous abnormals near the water so far. Well, aside from that trapper that Nick and the others had discovered dead years before she had come to live here. Puppy had been found in one of that trapper's cages. And where there was a viable river there was bound to be some sort of food.

She snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of crying and glanced down at her tearful little sister and the otter, which had gone back to playing dead. "You are not a possum. Playing dead will only get you eaten faster," she informed the creature as she forced herself to stand upright. "Plus, possums are way cuter." She smiled as the otter opened its eyes and snarled at her. "Much better," she teased. "No one likes a quitter." Wrapping an arm around Amelia she declared, "I have a plan."

"What kind of plan? I wanna go home."

"We'll get there, short stuff," Ashley assured as she steered them toward the retaining wall separating the two terraces. "Meanwhile, we need to find shelter and some food." She refrained from adding that daylight was running out, based on the long shadows from the hidden openings in the mountain's ceiling, and the lone torch they had would be running low on battery power soon.

"That doesn't sound like a good plan," Amelia shook her head.

"Sure it is. Think of it as camping. Camping can be fun, right?"

"What's camping?"

Helping the child up onto the next terrace Ashley tried to put a positive spin on the idea of camping. "Well, camping is when you sleep and cook outside. It can be a lot of fun."

"Sounds horrible," Amelia declared. Thanks to the retaining wall she was taller than her older sister and looked down at her with a frown and arms folded defensively.

The otter scrunched up his snout in agreement. Ignoring him, Ashley grabbed him and lifted him up to join his playmate. "Up you go, chubbs." She shoved the large backpack onto the ledge then pulled herself up, grimacing as pain shot up her wounded leg. Sitting for a second to catch her breath she flashed the best smile she could muster at the grumpy pair. To say it was a fake smile would be an understatement. "Camping can be a lot of fun," she insisted. "Mom, Henry and I used to do it when I was growing up. We'd put up a tent in the backyard, roast marshmallows by the fire and Mom would tell us stories about when she was a little girl or about trips she went on to rescue abnormals in need of help."

At the mention of marshmallows the otter gave her a hopeful look and held up his hands in the familiar gesture that indicated he had his bib and was ready for food. She sighed. "I don't have any marshmallows." Clamoring up, she grabbed the backpack and slid it on her should. "But I might have something just as good. We need to go to the river." The unhappy pair shuffled behind her.

At the river's edge the blonde peered down into the water and smiled. Finally, a lucky break in an otherwise sucky day. Dropping the backpack she scanned the riverbank and nodded. This could work. Turning back, she saw the duo staring into the water. "Careful," she advised. "The water's cold."

"Hey, there's fish down there," Amelia said excitedly. "I can see them swimming around."

The otter's whiskers twitched at the movement he saw in the water and he gave a low series of squeaks.

"Glad you agree," Ashley smiled down at the creature. "So, hop to it fur boy. Chop, chop. Into the water."

The otter gave her a bug eyed look as if to say, "Excuse me?"

"Why do you want Puppy to go into the water? You said it was cold."

"Puppy has a special layer of body fat and fur that will protect him in the water. And you know what else otters do?" she asked as she turned to smirk at him. "They catch fish." She pointed between herself and Amelia. "And we humans eat fish. Good deal, huh?"

Amelia wrinkled up her nose. "I'm not eating sushi!" she declared. "I hate raw fish."

Ashley rolled her eyes. "Not all sushi is raw. And I wasn't planning on us eating the fish raw. We'll make a fire and roast the fish. They'll be delicious. Trust me."

The otter looked unconvinced. He stared from the water to the humans and back again.

"Hey, listen," Ashley said, her patience starting to wane, "we all have to do our part to make it home." She pointed to herself. "My job is to kill the bad abnormals and keep us all safe." She then pointed at the otter. "Your job is to catch the fish so we can eat. I'm hungry. You're hungry. So, either you get into the water or I'll toss your fuzzy butt into the water."

"What's my job?" Amelia questioned with a raised eyebrow. She looked exactly like their mom in miniature form.

To be a royal pain in my backside Ashley thought to herself but refrained from voicing it. Instead, she answered, "To help me collect sticks and build a fire."

The child brightened. "I know how to make a fire. I've seen daddy and Uncle James do it many times in the fireplace. The trick is to make a tepee shape so the heat can funnel up," she advised in a serious manner.

"Great," Ashley said and clapped her hands together in an overly exaggerated expression of cheeriness. "Let's get started… as soon as fat boy here gets into the water."

"Come on, Puppy," Amelia said, turning to her playmate. "You need to catch us some fish. Here, let's take off your shirt and hat." She pulled off the articles of clothing and, at the otter's protesting squeaks, added, "You are a Magnus. You have to be brave." And with those parting words she shoved him into the water, much to the amusement of her older sister.

"That's the old family spirit," Ashley grinned and clamped her little sister on the shoulder. "Let's get some sticks to building the fire."

"Okay," Amelia smiled back and crammed the otter's clothes into her backpack. "I'm good at collecting sticks. Ask anybody."

The otter resurfaced and growled at the back of the pair as they moved away to look for sticks. He was planning to climb back onto the riverbank when he felt the rush of water by his hind leg as a fish swam by. Natural instincts kicked in and he turned and dove down to give chase.

About half an hour later the sisters had built a raised, circular stone fire pit in which a small fire was gaining strength. Amelia was distracted from her homesickness by the novelty of serving as the keeper of the fire and was carefully poking in new twigs to feed the flames. She coughed a few times and shifted sideways to avoid the smoke. Behind her, Ashley kept an eye on the girl, once or twice barking at her to keep back from the fire's reach, while she scoped out a large hole in the side of the terrace retaining wall. It was waist high and partially hidden by brush. Carefully sweeping aside some rubble in the hole she flashed the torch's light around the space. Nothing dangerous or alive lurking about. She mentally calculated the available space and decided it could serve as an adequate overnight spot. It would be snug but they'd need the body heat anyway. The temperature was dropping already and none of them were dressed for an overnight stay out in the cool, late autumn weather. Now all they needed was some substance. Her stomach growled as if to emphasize this.

Leaving the pack inside, she backed out of the hole and headed for the river. "Add a few more twigs there," she instructed as she passed Amelia. The child's distraction at fulfilling her "job" had come as most welcome relief. Care child was completely foreign to Ashley and if anyone had told her before coming here that one day she would be taking care of a pair of 4-year olds on her own she would have laughed in their face. Amazing how you could roll with the punches life dealt you she thought reflectively.

At the water's edge she frowned and slapped her hands on her hips. Where was that otter? He was a little overweight but surely he would have caught a fish by now. Unless he was a lousy hunter. Just her luck she'd gotten saddled with an otter that had no hunting skills. She was in the midst of bending down to peer in the water when something hit her in the side of the head, causing her to fall back onto her backside and yelp in pain as her leg bounced against the ground. Reaching for a rock to defend herself she instead discovered a fish flopping about anxiously in an attempt to return to the water. One hand went up to rub the sore spot on her head and she was in the process of turning her head to search for her attacker when another fish struck her shoulder. "What the…" she growled. Her eyes narrowed as the otter slid up onto the riverbank with another fish in his mouth. "You did that on purpose!" she accused.

The otter blinked back at her innocently before shaking himself like a wet dog, splattering her water. "Hey!" she cried, raising her hands in an attempt to fend off the drops of water that pelted her person. The otter finished drying off with a wiggle of his butt and scurried away to join Amelia by the fire.

Swiping the water from her damp face, Ashley stood up and glowered in the direction of the fire. "I will not shoot the otter, I will not shoot the otter," she muttered under her breath as she bent and picked up the wiggling fish. "I suppose I could roast the otter," she evilly muttered as she headed toward the fire pit. "He's certainly fat enough."


	76. Around the Campfire 2

Chapter 76: Around the Campfire 2

The object of her ire sat on his haunches on a rock beside the fire pit. His eyes were partially closed as he enjoyed the heat of the fire and calmly munched on the fish in his little hands.

Amelia pulled a face watching him eating the raw fish. "That's disgusting. I am not eating raw fish. I want a pizza."

"We're not eating raw fish," her older sister repeated for what had to be the tenth time. "We're going to eat roast fish. And there's no pizza here, otherwise I'd be all over it." Picking up the sticks whose end she had sharpened with Nick's knife she jabbed them through the squirming fish, causing the child to scrunch up her face in horror. "Eww!" the child cried and slapped her hands over her face. "Don't be such a sissy," Ashley chided while placing the skewered fish across the raised rock edging of the fire pit. "You're a Magnus. You're supposed to be tougher than this."

Amelia pulled her hands away from her eyes and placed them on her hips defiantly. "I'm a Magnus-Druitt!" she retorted.

"See, even better. Any spawn of baldie should be tougher than this."

Amelia had overheard her sister refer to their dad as "baldie" and was not amused. "His name is not baldie. It's daddy!"

"Not to me it's not," Ashley shot back.

"Why don't you call him daddy?" Amelia asked with a frown. "He is your daddy, isn't it?"

"That's what I've been told," Ashley snarked and immediately bit down on her bottom lip. The last thing she needed to do was go off on a 4-year old about their father's dark past. It was obvious that Amelia knew little about Druitt's real identity.

"Then why don't you call him daddy?" the confused child pressed.

Ashley sighed. Reaching over to turn the fish on their skewers she honestly replied, "Because I don't know him as daddy the way you do. He wasn't around when I was growing up… and… I only met him over a year ago. To me, he's a stranger that I'm slowly getting to know."

"Really?" the stunned child said. Taken aback by her sister's confession she sat down on a rock beside her and stared at the fire. A long awkward silence stretched between them. Ashley glanced over at her sister, who looked so small against the vast open landscape, and felt guilty. The last thing she had meant to do was unload her repressed anger at their parents onto Amelia. Searching for something to say her thoughts were interrupted by the child's question, "So that's why you call him Druitt instead of daddy?"

"Well, yeah," Ashley answered and turned the fish skewers again. Almost ready to eat she decided. "That is actually his real name. Montague John Druitt."

Amelia's head popped up to look at her with a comical expression. "Daddy's name is Montygoose?"

Laughing, Ashley replied, "Not Montygoose…" but halted as a wicked smile spread across her face. "That is a rather silly name, isn't it?"

"Uh huh," Amelia agreed with a laugh. "No wonder daddy likes to be called daddy."

Ashley laughed again as she pulled the fish off the fire and handed the smaller one to her sister. "Yep."

Accepting the fish Amelia smiled back at her. "I'm going to tell daddy I know his real name next time I see him."

"Please do," Ashley smugly said and tasted her fish, softly muttering "ouch!" and then blowing on it to cool the fish off. "Make sure you say the whole name right."

Mimicking her big sister, Amelia blew on her fish and nodded. "I will. Montygoose John Druitt," she repeated.

"That's right," Ashley egged her on. "Especially the Montygoose part."

"Okay," she agreed. "This fish tastes okay but it needs some salt and pepper."

"I don't have any pepper but oddly enough we do have salt," Ashley answered and got up to go to the cave. Digging around in Nick's backpack she found the little plastic baggie with single packages of salt. Plucking out two packages she returned the plastic baggie to the backpack. "Or perhaps not so oddly," she murmured to herself. Dude has some serious salt issues she pondered as she briefly reflected on all the times that she'd witnessed him adding additional salt to his food. Mom needs to talk to him about the dangers of salt overdose. It suddenly occurred to her that her mom had been present during many of those times and yet had not fussed at him about the salt. Which was weird because she'd done that very thing to others who were heavy handed with the salt. Frowning, she returned to the fire. Both sisters salted their fish and hungrily ate away with Ashley taking care to make sure the child didn't accidently eat a bone.

"Not bad," Ashley commented after finishing off her large fish. "Another one or two and I'll be full," she teased the otter, who had finished his meal and was lying on his stomach with his rear near the fire to warm up his tail. "How about it, fuzz butt?" The otter raised his head to glare at her. "What? I'm bigger than you. I need to eat more." The otter stuck his tongue at her, made a rude raspberry noise, and dropped its head down to go back to lightly snoozing. "I take it that's a no?" she continued to tease him and was rewarded with another raspberry.

"I don't want another fish," Amelia declared, putting her skewered fishbone down by her feet. "I want a cookie or a piece of cake."

"Yeah, can't help you there," Ashley shot back. "Nick does have an oatmeal protein bar in his bag. You can have that."

"Pass," the girl grunted. She was about to suggest pie or ice cream as an alternative when she noticed movement by her feet. Her skewer was slowly moving to the right. Shrieking, the child jump up and threw herself into her surprised sister's arms, knocking her backwards onto her back on the ground. Amelia landed on top of her.

"What the…" Ashley began and was cut off with "Monsters! The monsters are back! They took my fish!" Alarmed, Ashley tried to shake the child off as her right hand flailed around in search of Nick's double-headed axe. "Where's the eel? Do you see it?" she demanded as she continued to try to wrestle her sister loose. The kid had an ironclad grip when she was afraid it seemed.

The otter, having been startled from his nap, rolled off his rock to land on the ground with a loud "oompf!" His head swiveled around in search of the source of danger and noticed the fish skeleton slowly rounding the corner of the rock Amelia had been seated upon. He sniffed at the air and scuttled up onto his feet to stalk toward the rock. Rump in the air, head low and nose twitching like a bloodhound.

The sisters noticed his behavior and stopped their wrestling match. Ashley's racing heartbeat started to slow down as she realized that he wasn't acting as terrified as he had been back inside the city. "What is it, boy?" she softly called out to him as she finally detangled herself from her sibling. She picked up the axe, pushed the button to release the blades from their safety setting, and eased herself up. The otter's head disappeared behind the rock, there was a lot of growling, and his backside began to slide back and forth as he wrestled with an unseen attacker. Ashley rushed forward, ready to aid the otter. She skidded to a stop behind him, raised the axe… let out a surprised snort, and lowered the axe. "Huh, whatda know?" she exclaimed. "I haven't seen one of these in ages."

"What is it?" Amelia squeaked and picked up a rock to defend herself. "Is it another monster?"

Puppy wiggled his backside as he dragged his opponent into view. He had hold of the fish's tail. A small white lizard had hold of the fish's head. The otter growled. The lizard huffed through its side gills causing a ring of frilly white ruff to encircle its head, thus making it look larger and more intimidating.

"Aw, aren't you a cutie?" Ashley cooed as she put down the axe and smiled down at the lizard. The otter shot her a look of disbelief and continued to play a game of tug of war with its opponent. "Give him the fishbones," she commanded with a shake of her finger. "It's hungry and your bones are lying on the ground uneaten. He's just a little skinny thing. He's probably starving."

"What's a little skinny thing?" Amelia demand and scooted closer. Her eyes widen as she saw the white lizard. "That's a funny looking stone gecko."

"It's not a gecko. It's a heat lizard. They're awesome. See that ruff of white around his head? That changes colors depending on how hot he gets. It goes from white to peach to a glowing red."

Intrigued, the child moved closer. "How do you know it's a boy lizard and not a girl lizard?"

"The ruff. Only the males have it."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Nah, but it does have a sharp bite if annoyed. Which a certain otter is about to discover if he doesn't let go," she advised and reached down to pick him up. The fish still hung in his mouth and the lizard hung from the other end. She pried the fish from the otter's mouth and handed him to his playmate. "Leave the lizard alone," she ordered. "He is not a threat to you." Puppy squeaked back at her angrily. "Language young man. Just because we're camping out by the water doesn't mean you can talk like a salty sailor."

Sitting down on a rock near the lizard Ashley smiled down fondly at it. Amelia moved to stand beside her and Ashley unconsciously wrapped one arm around the youngster. "The first time I saw one of these I was on an early mission trip with mom and Henry. Henry was the one who found the lizard and told me all about it. It climbed up onto our shallow fire pit and stuck its tail in the fire to warm up. I swear, the thing smiled as it changed colors and absorbed the heat. Henry named him Spot and I begged mom to let me take it home but she said no. She said we had way too many fireplaces at the Sanctuary and everyone would complain because people would get spooked every time they lit a fire only to find a lizard heat bathing inside. Personally, I think it's cool. So did Henry." She sighed. "My Henry," she muttered to herself.

"Who's Henry?" Amelia asked as she leaned forward to get a better look at the lizard, which was greedily munching away on the fish's head. Puppy took the opportunity to climb out of his sibling's grasp and seated himself in Ashley's lap, which was a surprise to the older woman as he'd never done that before.

"Henry is basically my big brother. He's brilliant, sweet, and probably the biggest nerd on the planet. He's the best big brother a girl could have," Ashley explained with a soft smile. She blinked her eyes repeatedly to keep from tearing up. This was the longest she had ever gone from seeing him. It had only been four months but it felt like an eternity.

"We have a big brother?" Amelia asked in surprise. "Really?"

Ashley smiled down at her. "Yeah, I suppose we do. You'll love Henry, when you finally get to meet him. Everybody loves Henry. He's a sweetheart… and a werewolf." The last part was blurted out before she could censure herself.

"A werewolf? Like Shaggy?"

"Shaggy? Who's Shaggy?"

"You know, from Scooby Doo. Shaggy turned into a werewolf in one show. He howled at the moon and got all hairy like a dog."

Ashley shrugged, amused by the comparison. "Yeah, like Shaggy I guess." She shook her head and snorted a laugh. "I can't believe I'm having a discussion about Scooby Doo and werewolves. At least, not while sober."

The lizard, having finished consuming the fish head, gave a little belch and waddled over to the fire. Turning sideways it eased itself back into the fire, flattened itself onto a rock, and squeezed its eyes closed in contentment. It even appeared to be smiling.

"It really does smile," Amelia observed with a dimpled grin. "I shall call him Pickles."

"Why pickles?"

"I like pickles," the child stated with a shrug.

Ashley laughed. "Nick was right. You do have a way with names."

"It's a gift," Amelia smartly replied, making Ashley laugh again. "Can we keep him?"

"Hmm, rule #1 with pets. If they follow you home and you can sneak them into the house without being caught you have a good chance of keeping him."

"So, we put him into my backpack and sneak him into the house without mom seeing and we get to keep him?"

"Eh, works for me. But wait until he cools down before putting him in your bag or the bag will catch on fire. Yeah, learned that the hard way," she chuckled to herself. A light snore caught her attention and she looked down to find the otter asleep in her lap. "Somebody's ready for bed."

Amelia yawned and leaned into her sister's shoulder. "I'm sleepy. And really cold."

Ashley struggled upright with the sleeping otter. Grabbing the axe she led the way to the cave. "Here, hold Puppy while I get the cave set up," she ordered and passed the creature over. Opening Nick's backpack she pulled out a tightly rolled silky sleeping bag and a thin, metallic medic blanket, both of high quality used by hardcore outdoorsmen. Whereas Lucy sunk her money into high quality clothing and shoes Nick sunk his money into high quality hardware and equipment. He was a man right after her heart.

"Nick's after your heart?" a sleep voice asked. "Why?"

Ashley's eyes flew open. Crap. Did she just say that aloud? "Nothing," she stuttered in embarrassment and hurried to spread out the sleeping bag unzipped. The three of them couldn't fit with it zipped. She reclaimed the otter and gently placed him at the end of the sleeping bag before lifting her sister inside. "I gotta potty," Amelia whined sleepily.

Ashley growled. "You couldn't have done that before I lifted you inside?" she complained and lifted the child back out. Her leg was throbbing something fierce and her resolve not to use the morphine had pretty much gone up in smoke. She needed that shot and soon. "Stay close and in my line of sight," she instructed as she moved back toward the fire. The lizard was dozing in the fire and had turned a rosy shade of deep pink. Ashley placed more twigs onto the fire, careful not to disturb the lizard. She then opened the axe's double blades and fished out a rock from the outer edge of the fire and used her foot to scoot a replacement rock into its former spot. Good thing the riverbank was full of loose rock and sand. She could keep the fire going without worrying about it spreading toward the cave and its inhabitants. She touched the rock. It was warm but not hot enough to start a fire. The sleeping bag was treated to be flame retardant and could handle warm rocks. "I love this tool," she said with a yawn. "If this thing wasn't Nick's father's I'd steal it in a heartbeat."

"You love Nick's tool?" a little voice asked from behind.

"That is not what I said!" the mortified blonde exclaimed and blushed.

"Uh huh. You said you love…"

"Nevermind what I said," Ashley crankily retorted. "Let's just get back to the cave, alright?!"

"Why are you carrying a rock?" Amelia asked as followed her back to the cave.

"Old camping trick. Warm rocks under the blanket makes the sleeping bag nice and toasty." She tucked the rock under the blanket's edge between the sleeping otter and where Amelia would be sleeping, and then helped her sister back up into the cave.

Curious, Amelia pressed her hand onto the sleeping bag's surface to feel the rock's heat and smiled drowsily. "It's so warm."

"Good. Now lie back down and I'll put the blanket over you." That done, she turned to collect a few more stones. Amelia shot upright and grabbed her arm to stop her. "Ashley, don't leave me! Please! I'll be good. Really I will."

"I'm not leaving you," Ashley frowned at the child's unexpected outburst. "I'm just going back for a few more rocks."

"Promise?" the child asked doubtfully. She looked so worried that Ashley's face softened.

"I promise. I'm not going to leave you. I'm your big sister. It's my job to keep you safe."

"Even if you don't like me?" came the pitiful question complete with teary eyes.

Sitting sideways in the tight cave opening Ashley leaned forward and placed a hand on the child's cheek. "Hey, what's makes you think I don't like you?"

"I know you don't," Amelia sniffled and a tear escaped her eye to slide down her porcelain cheek. "I know I get on your nerves and make you mad. I don't mean it," she exclaimed. "I just want you to play with me."

"I know," Ashley reassured her. "It's okay. Sisters argue. That doesn't mean they don't like each other. What counts is that they take care of each other. Okay?"

"Okay," Amelia nodded with another yawn.

Ashley gently rubbed her sibling's cheek. "I'll collect a few more rocks and then I'll join you in the sleeping bag. Pinky swear." She held up her pinky finger and smiled as the child wrapped her pinky around it. "Go to sleep," she urged as she kissed her little sister's temple.

Later, after a few more stones had been tucked underneath, Ashley squirmed her way into the cozy cave and stretched her legs out through the cave opening. The children were sleep, tucked against one another in the tighter end of the small cave. Reaching into the backpack Ashley removed the emergency medical kit, fitted the needle into the small morphine vial and extracted its contents. Tugging up her pant leg she gritted her teeth and sunk the needle into her leg above her wound. She really hated needles. If she weren't in so much pain she wouldn't have resorted to injecting herself with a powerful pain killer. But this was a desperate time for her. Unbeknownst to her companions Ashley could feel her body weakening to the effects of the abnormal eel's injury. Help needed to arrive soon. If she had to resort to taking the second shot she might not be able to fully protect the children should another attack occur. She needed to stay in control and conscious. "Anytime now, mom," she murmured and closed her eyes to wait for the painkiller's relief to kick in. "I'm back down in that abandoned well waiting for you to come rescue me. You promised you'd always come for me."


	77. The Rescue Party

Chapter 77: The Rescue Party

He sniffed at the air. The smell of smoke was faint but he could swear it was there. They were too far away from the main residential section for it to be from one of their fireplaces. That meant someone else was burning a fire. Leaning over the top of the terrace he scanned the landscape for signs of recent movement. After a moment he noticed the dirt had been disturbed and a distinct otter paw print was visible… and another… and another. Narrowing his eyes he did another sweep and picked up the other pair of footprints, this time shoed ones. They definitely went this way. Swiftly, he hefted himself over the tall retaining wall and landed on the next level with a soft crunch of gravel underneath his booted feet. For a tall man he could move quickly and lightly.

"Do you see them?" came an excited question from behind as a taller figure clamored up the wall. He had discovered something based on how confidently he was moving and this in turn was giving her renewed energy. Hours had passed since her children's disappearance and her nerves were stretched thin. All she could think about was which child had been hurt and how bad was the wound. No reply came. The boy was already at the far end of the terrace and flew up over it onto the next one. "Nick!" she hissed and scrambled after him. Despite being a very old woman she could move quickly but the boy moved quicker in his altered state. Particularly since he could see in the dark and didn't have to rely on a narrowed path of torchlight. "Nick, wait!" she called again, then yelped as her foot slipped on the cold stone surface. Flying backward her hands flailed in search of something to stop her fall. The torch fell from her grasp and an accompanying expletive let her know it had struck one of her companions. A pair of firm hands caught her before her backside hit the floor and she tilted her head up to look upon her rescuer.

"Careful, darling, wouldn't want to damage that lovely backside of yours, now would you?" James teased. "It's one of your best assets."

She flashed him a dimpled smile of thanks as he helped her upright. "Why, thank you, good sir."

In the dark, John rolled his eyes and rubbed at his thigh where the metal torch had struck. Leaning to pick it up he growled, "If you two are done flirting can we get on with it. Your ward's taken off without us."

"He must have finally picked up on their trail," James assessed in a pleased tone. "That's good. I grow tired of running around in circles and down dead ends. This place is a labyrinth of stairways and halls." Indeed, he was grateful to be outside the city's ruins. The visible skylight reflected above in the mountain's ceiling due to the angled interior mirrors were a welcome sight from the depressive damage and dank of un-renovated sections of the city. The children had obviously gotten lost in the labyrinth for their footsteps doubled back several times which made tracking them harder. The discovery of the dead eel at the bottom of the stairwell had been both a blessing and a curse. The oozing of its dark blood, if one could call it that, under the doorway had alerted them to the exit the children had taken. The bullet hole through its eye and discarded metal chair leg was disheartening in that it reminded them Ashley's protective resources were running out.

Handing his lover's torch back to her, John swept his torchlight before him and frowned. The cold nipped at his face and his warm breath curled up distinctly as he huffed out a deep, worried breath. The moisture in the air was changing into fog. Visibility would be decreasing soon. "We need to catch up with him. Otherwise we'll have another lost child on our hands… and we'll be stumbling about in the fog."

"Not to worry," James countered patiently and pointed ahead. Following his gesture, the couple located the pair of green glowing eyes staring back at them from two terraces up. "He's keeping an eye on us."

"I suppose that could be useful," John begrudgingly remarked. He'd acclimated to Nick's altered appearance but being in a foul mood he wasn't cutting the boy any slack. As far as he was concerned Nick was still responsible for Amelia's disappearance because of his failure to escort her back to home once he'd become aware of her presence.

James snorted and moved toward the retaining wall. "Right, because you wouldn't find being able to see and move fluidly in the dark a useful ability in any way."

"Ability or not, he still hasn't found them yet," John acidly shot back.

"He'll find them," James retorted. "And maybe then you can climb off your high horse. Your offspring don't fall to far from the family tree."

"Meaning what?" John growled back.

"Meaning trouble is their middle name. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. My goddaughters are nothing if not interesting. But they do have a habit of getting themselves into sticky situations. Like their parents. And like their parents they are survivors." He reached the wall, tossed his small backpack over it, and went to pull himself up onto the next level.

"It certainly sounds like a complaint to me," his old classmate groused as he followed suit.

Watson shrugged. "You're old. Your hearing is probably off kilter."

"I'm not much older than you, you great big git," John exclaimed. "Perhaps you're the one with defective hearing."

A loud sigh escaped from the annoyed woman standing on the retaining wall above them. "Honestly, I'd shot you both right here and now, but then I'd have to drag your sorry butts home for a proper burial."

Smirking up at her James gave a slight nod of his head. "Good to know you think enough of us to give us a proper burial."

"Why are you being so prickly," she shot back. "We're running out of time and we need to catch up with Nick. He could need our help if he runs into any other dangerous abnormals."

"Dear heart," he replied sweetly as he stood up next to her, "he is a dangerous abnormal. That's why he's leading and we're following." Walking away, he said over his shoulder, "And I'm not being prickly. I am merely pointing out the obvious."

"Oh my God," Helen exclaimed as she threw her hands out in exasperation. "You're bored, aren't you?"

"We've been roaming around in circles for hours. Of course I'm bored!" he sniffed and kept walking.

"I could push him off the terrace and no one would know," John whispered conspiratorially in her ear. "It might be cathartic to hear his pompousness squawking all the way down the mountain."

She chuckled and swatted his chest. "Maybe later."

Two terraces up, Nick waited until he saw them coming his way before he turned and sniffed the air again. The smoke scent was definitely getting stronger. He narrowed his eyes and scanned the area for signs of a fire. Nothing. He was two-thirds across this wider terrace when he realized the smoke scent was decreasing. Frowning, he stopped and reconsidered his next move. If the fire was no longer ahead of him then it had to be… slowly stepping back one leg at a time he sniffed at the air. When the scent grew strong again he turned and moved to the side of the retaining wall. Looking down he gauged the distance down to the water… it was quite reachable for Ashley and the children to scale down safely. Lifting himself onto the wall he sat and narrowed his eyes to scan for the fire. The narrower he focused his pupils the sharper his vision became in distinguishing objects at a distance. There! A pinpoint of light, swaying unsteadily like a fire would, could be seen far to the left, back from the river. A normal human eye would never make it out but he was far from being a normal human. Swinging his legs over the edge he was prepared to climb down when he remembered he had to wait for the rest of his search party. "Come on, you old geezers," he muttered under his breath. "Time's a wasting." Why he felt that way he wasn't sure but he felt it in his bones. Time was of the essence.

Feeling dizzy, Ashley let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes. It would only be for a moment she told herself. Just long enough for the scenery, what little of it she could make out in the growing fog, to stop swaying in and out of focus. She had no idea how much time had passed from the moment Amelia fell back through the elevator door until the now, when they were holed up into a tiny cave. One so tiny she had to hang her legs out through the opening. She sighed again. That second morphine shot was relentlessly calling to her. Inject me and you'll feel no pain it taunted. "This totally sucks," she grumbled and then froze. A loud snuffling sound issued from close vicinity caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end.

"I smell blood," a gruff voice softly said. It sounded like it came from nearby and Ashley's eyes flew open. From the fog a face swam into view. Well, something that might be a face. It was dark, obscured by a hood pulled over the head, and a pair of eyes stared back at her. Glowing green eyes that were slitted like that of a cat's. "Holy crap!" she exclaimed, sitting upright and smacking her head straight into the hard rock ceiling of the small cave. "Ow!" she cried aloud, clapping her left hand onto her forward. Her surroundings swayed even more.

A pair of clawed, dark hands gripped the cave opening. "Take it easy. I didn't mean to startle you. The blood comment was merely a statement, not a declaration of hunger."

The dark, angular face suddenly appeared inches from her face, causing her to gasp and struggle to raise the gun in her right hand. "Don't come any closer or I'll shoot!"

He tssked with a shake of his head. "Now, Twinks, that wouldn't be very nice. Especially since I'm here to rescue you. Not to mention the fact that shooting me will only annoy me." Before she could react the gun was yanked from her grasp and tossed over his shoulder. He ignored her exclamation of "Hey!" and tilted his head to look past her into the darkness. There was a sharp contrast between the darkness of his countenance and the bright whiteness of his teeth as he smiled in relief at the sight of the two small lumps in the blanket that were a pair of sleeping children. "They're okay. Thank goodness."

The familiarity of his voice, much deeper in timbre than normal, made it through the haziness of her drug addled mind. "Nick?"

"At your service, my lady," he said, turning back to stare at her.

His intense, glowing gaze was creepy. "What are you?" she hesitantly asked.

"I'm like you," he replied. "Maybe a little more so."

"I'm not half phantom half lizard," she retorted back with a glare. "I'm full on human."

He snorted. "I'm not part phantom or lizard. And having lived with your family for several months I'm pretty sure you're not full on human either. They give the term 'abnormal' a whole new level of meaning."

"Hey," she snapped back, "okay, so they're total head cases but they don't have clawed hands or glowing eyes or…" she paused to stare at side of his head, which was a mere three inches from her face. "You're ears are pointed, like Spock. Oh my god, you're part gargoyle, aren't you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Gargoyle? Really? That the best you can do, Twinks?"

"Don't call me, Twinks!" she growled and punched him in left shoulder hard. She gasped as pain shot through her fist when it hit the cold hardness of his body. "Ow!" she wailed and curled her fist against her torso. "What the hell are you made of, concrete?!"

"Quiet!" he hushed her as one of the little lumps in the blanket shifted. "We don't want to wake up the kiddos before your parents get here."

"You mean you don't want to wake them because you're creepy looking," she groused back as she rubbed her stinging fist to dull the pain. Seeing a flash of hurt cross his eyes she immediately regretted her words. "Sorry," she stuttered, "I'm just a little out of it right now. My leg is killing me."

He leaned out of the opening to inspect her leg. He didn't need the strong smell of dried blood to tell him that the wound was bad. He also made out the discarded needle and vial to the side of the cave opening. "We need your mother," he declared and turned abruptly to depart.

"Nick!" she called out as he blended into the fog. "Nick!" A little groan issued beside her and she sighed. "Crap."

On the terrace above, Helen jumped as a dark figure leapt over the retaining wall next to her. "Nick!" she gasped and lowered the weapon she had raised automatically.

"I found them. Ashley's hurt. You need to get to her back to the infirmary stat."

"How bad?" John demanded.

"Pretty bad," Nick admitted. He turned and pointed down into the distance. "They're sheltered into a little cave-like opening beneath the far retaining wall.

"John," Helen began to say but never finished before feeling that familiar tugging sensation that came with teleportation.

Alone with his mentor, Nick shook his head and sighed. "That whole family is barking mad, you know that, right?"

"More than anyone else on this planet," James admitted with a shrug. "You should have seen the pair in college. I had Big Foot living in my guest room our last year so he could save up for an engagement ring."

The younger man grinned. "And you're still sharing living quarters with him in your old age."

"Karma's a bitch, and mine appears to be tied in with those two," Watson said wryly. He moved to lean over the retaining wall. "Why down there?"

"The river, I expect. I saw evidence of a camp site. It was the faint smell of smoke that alerted me to their location." He stopped James as the older man swung one leg over to begin his descent. "Don't bother. It's a steep climb down in the dark and John can teleport them back safely on his own."

"He can't teleport them all back at the same time," James reminded him. "I expect he'll want to teleport Ashley and her mother back first. That will leave the children unguarded."

"I'm on it," the younger man complied, pushing himself up onto the retaining wall and disappearing into the fog.

Sitting down onto the waist-high wall Watson reached into his inside pocket and pulled out his trusty old pipe. "Ah, to be young and endlessly energetic," he murmured as he went about calmly lighting his pipe.

Ashley was in the process of reassuring her drowsy little sister everything was fine, that there was no eel monsters at their cave opening when another familiar voice called out her name. A deeper voice echoed her name followed by that of Amelia's. "Mom?" The voices came closer and Ashley could hear the crunching of feet on the stony, sandy terrain. "Mom! Dad!" she yelled as loudly as she could muster.

In a matter of seconds a torch light blinded her. Then Helen's face burst through the hole. "Ashley!" the relieved mother exclaimed and reached in to cup her eldest's face. She needed to touch her child, to make sure she was real.

"Mummy!" a little voice cried off to the side and before either woman was prepared for it a little body pushed up between them to tackle the older woman. Not expecting the assault, Helen swayed backward as Amelia wrapped her arms around her neck like a vice. "Ow!" Ashley howled as her mother bumped against wounded leg. Bumping into the tall, lean form of Druitt who had come up behind her, Helen grabbed at the squirming little form clutching at her to prevent the child from falling down. "Amelia!" both relieved parents cried.

"I hate to break up this lovely little family reunion," Ashley groused loudly, "but I need a little help here!"

"Of course, darling," her mother answered back and spun around to hand off Amelia to her father.

"Daddy!" Amelia said. "It was awful. The monsters tried to eat me!"

"You're okay, pet," he replied and crushed her to him chest. "No one's going to eat you, I promise you." He plied kisses to her golden head and gave a contented sigh. His family was safe.

The child squirmed against his chest and said in a muffled voice, "Too tight, daddy! Can't breathe!"

"Sorry, pet," he apologized and hoisted her higher so she could wrap her little arms around his neck. Together they glanced back at the cave opening where Helen was fending off a shower of excited otter licks and squeals.

"Ow!" Ashley complained at the wiggly fur ball who had invaded her lap. "Get off, you big hairball."

Unable to calm the happy creature down, Helen picked him up, turned around and shoved him at John. Leaning over, she poised the torchlight onto Ashley's wound and began plying her oldest with questions about the injury.

"Yes, yes, it's good to see you too," John said and tried unsuccessfully to dodge the otter's wet licks. "Gah, he smells like a fishery," he complained to no one in particular.

"They had fish for dinner," Nick offered, appearing suddenly by the big man's side.

Eyes going wide, Amelia took one look at Nick's transformed appearance, opened her mouth and began screaming at the top of her lungs. Startled, the otter joined in and began squealing in alarm. He saw the dark figure, struggled against Druitt's hold, and fell to the ground. Shaking himself off, he dodged the pair of dark arms reaching for him and scuttled over to wrap his tiny arms around one of the legs of his human mother.

"Crap," Nick muttered. He'd failed to notice the children were within sight. He'd planned to transform before getting to the cave opening.

The high pitch screaming slammed into Ashley's consciousness like a jack hammer. "Geez, somebody do something," she pleaded and slapped her hands to her head.

Prying the scared creature off her leg, Helen straightening back up and placed a reassuring hand on the screaming child. "Amelia, stop yelling. It's okay. That's Nick. He's here to help us."

"Help would be good," Ashley called out. "I sure could use some help here if everyone is done with their little drama scenes!"

"Take the children back first," Helen instructed the father of her children. "You can come back for me and Ashley next."

"No!" Amelia cried and reached for her mother. "Don't leave me, mummy!"

"Oh, good grief," Helen sighed and accepted the bawling child into her arms. She didn't have to look down to know the otter had reattached itself to her right leg.

"You and Ashley should go back first," a concerned Druitt countered. A howl went from Amelia and the otter after that declaration.

"Take Helen and the children back first," Nick interrupted. "I'll stay with Ashley."

The pair turned to look at Ashley. "Go," she croaked. "All that screaming is killing my head."

"Are you sure, Ashley?" John asked. "I can take you first and then return for your mother and the kids."

She waved him off. "Go," she repeated. "I'll be fine until you return."

John looked over at Nick. "I'll be right back. Keep her safe." He waited until the younger man nodded before teleporting away.

"Looks like it's just you and me," Nick joked. He kept his distance in case she freaked out again over his appearance.

"Help me out," she exclaimed. "Everything's swaying and I don't think I can get out on my own without falling down onto my injured leg."

"Are you sure you want me touching you?" he hesitantly asked. Her evident fear of him still held its initial sting.

"If you were a danger to me or Amelia mom would have kicked your butt," she snarked back. "Besides, I've seen a lot worse." At his clenched jaw she sighed. "Sorry, I didn't mean that as criticism. I just meant you're not even close to the creepiest thing I've run across. Compared to them, you're positively cuddly."

He laughed and moved to assist her. "Cuddly? I've been called many things but cuddly isn't one of them."

"Yeah, well no one's ever called me Twinks before either," she said as he carefully lifted her out. "Make you a deal. You stop calling me Twinks and I won't start calling you Pooh Bear."

"Pooh bear?" he chortled. "What happened to looking like a phantom or a gargoyle?"

"Gargie sounds stupid. And calling you the phantom smacks of a musical opera. I hate opera," she explained.

"I don't want to be called Pooh Bear. That's a sissy nickname."

"Oh, and Twinks is any better?" she glared slightly crossed eyed back at him. "I eat Twinkies. I don't want to be called a Twinkie."

"I'll think about it," he lied and touched a clawed hand gently to her forehead. "Druitt needs to get back soon. You're burning up."

"Ugh, I'm not feeling so good. You might want to put me down. I think I'm going to be sick." She began retching before he could completely place her down onto a flat rock by the remains of the fire. Slumping to the side, she threw up a few times. Nick's sturdy arms around her waist prevented her from falling off her perch. "Sorry," she embarrassedly apologized.

"You'd do the same for me," he answered. A movement in the dying fire caught his eye. "Something's moving in the fire," he whispered. "Keep still."

"That's Pickles," she said as she swiped at her mouth with the sleeve of her jacket.

"Pickles?" he repeated in confusion.

"Amelia's pet fire lizard. You better get him. She'll make us come back for him if we don't bring him back."

"A fire lizard? You're joking. You want me to bring a fire breathing lizard back home with us?"

"Pickles doesn't breathe fire. He likes to soak in the fire. He's harmless." She glared back at him. "And you can stop looking at me cross eyed. I'm not crazy."

"Sweetheart, you're the one staring at me cross eyed. And I'm not reaching into the fire to retrieve a lizard."

"The fire's out and yes, you are retrieving that lizard. I've spent the whole day dealing with a pair of shrieking munchkins. I've done my time in kiddy hell. I'm not dealing with Amelia's hissy fit if we forget the lizard."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are!"

A flare of red interrupted their quarrel. "Sorry," John apologized breathlessly. "Your sister threw a fit when I went to leave."

"Told you," Ashley croaked at the man holding her upright and poked him in the chest. "Get the stupid lizard."

"Lizard? What lizard?" John inquired with concern as he swiveled his head around. There was no lizard in sight as far as he could see.

"Nevermind," Nick groaned and lifted Ashley into her father's arms. "Give me a few minutes to pack things up here before you come back for me and James." He headed toward the fire pit as the duo teleported away in a flash of red. "I'll get the stupid lizard," he grumbled.


End file.
